


He's a Friend

by JaneDuJour



Category: Suits (TV)
Genre: Angst, M/M, Unresolved Sexual Tension, identity crisis
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-07-21
Updated: 2012-07-21
Packaged: 2017-11-10 10:21:59
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 24,380
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/465212
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/JaneDuJour/pseuds/JaneDuJour
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Mike accidentally imposes on Harvey's evening with a "friend" when he is mugged in the neighbourhood and needs a place to crash, putting Harvey's personal and professional boundaries to the test.</p>
            </blockquote>





	He's a Friend

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you so much to LittleGirlTree who hooked me up with Ao3 and has been a completely awesome beta reader.

Mike buzzed up to Harvey’s apartment three times before deciding that he wasn’t home. It was past midnight and having no money, no phone and no keys to his own apartment, Mike had few other places to turn. Still, he was relieved in a small way when there was no answer. Harvey was the last person he wanted to impose himself on, and if he’d been mugged closer to Jenny’s neighbourhood he would have gone there first. Not that it would go over any more smoothly, but Jenny would be his next stop regardless. At least then he could explain that he literally had nowhere else to go to spend the night, having already tried Harvey. Obviously Rachel would be thrilled to take him in (although she’d pretend she wouldn’t be) but he’d never set eyes on her address. Mike managed to bum a quarter for a payphone and called his elusive superintendent about spare keys, but he was forwarded to a machine. It would have to wait until morning.

The security guard in Harvey’s lobby was giving him a suspicious eye that distinctly told him to get lost, so Mike resigned himself to the long walk ahead. After what he’d been through just to get a quarter for the payphone, he didn’t feel up to begging for change for the subway or another phone call. It didn’t help that he looked like he’d been fighting, which he had been.

Only a few paces out of the building, he heard a familiar voice.

“Mike?”

He turned to see Harvey walking up to front doors, arriving from the opposite direction just as Mike was leaving. He was dressed down in a pair of jeans, a blue shirt and a black jacket. He looked years younger than he had in the office earlier that day. There was someone by his side who appeared to be in his mid-twenties and had clearly been churned out of the same fashion factory as Harvey’s suit guy, Rene. But this one was blonde. They both looked comfortably hydrated, and a bit confused.

“What are you doing here?” Harvey had one hand on the door.

“I was…” Mike glanced at the other man, having no desire to discuss his problematic evening in front of a stranger, let alone one who looked so skeptical behind his designer glasses. And now that he knew Harvey had a guest, he was even less willing to impose himself. Suddenly the very notion of Harvey taking him in seemed so foolish. And the truth was, he didn’t want Harvey to see him like this. He had lost against his attacker, and he must have looked pathetic from Harvey’s perspective. No – he didn’t want to be a beggar. He could deal with it on his own.

“You know what, it’s nothing. I’ll tell you about it tomorrow.” Mike mustered a feeble smile and turned to leave.

“Woah, woah. You’re bleeding.” Harvey stepped away from the door and his companion to get a closer look at Mike, who froze under his gaze.

Mike knew he’d been hit more than once, but it was all a blur and the cool night air had numbed his skin. He wiped the side of his face with the back of his hand.

“Other side, genius.”

Mike touched the left side of his face, and his fingers did indeed come away with blood on them. “Oh.”

Harvey’s eyes narrowed slightly. “Are you alright?” His words were concerned, but he sounded angry.

“I’m not seriously hurt, if that’s what you’re asking.” His arm and his face were throbbing, his ribs cramped and sore, but nothing was broken from what he could tell. He could see over Harvey’s shoulder that his friend was becoming annoyed. Assuming that an irritated guest meant an irritated host, Mike decided once again that it was not the time to unload his problems on Harvey.

Harvey stepped a little closer but didn’t bother to lower his voice. “Does this, in _any_ way, have to do with drugs?”

“No!” Mike shook his head instantly, reminded once again that first impressions were lasting. “I got mugged a few blocks from here.” Harvey’s eyes were pressing into him so hard that he had no choice but to continue. “My wallet’s gone, my keys, my phone… I thought maybe I could…” Get a shower and some sleep and some peace of mind. “Use your phone.”

“Why didn’t you just call the police? You know that’s free of charge from a payphone, don’t you?”

“I… I don’t know, I saw your building.” Mike had spent so much time trying to dodge the police over the years that it never would have crossed his mind to contact them.

“And what did you say happened to your head?”

“The sidewalk.”

“You’re not intoxicated.” It was an observation. 

“It sounds like you’re saying I’d have to be high to presume that you’d help me out.” Maybe he was right. “I’m just gonna take off and I’ll see you tomorrow.” Now he could add utter humiliation to his already horrible night.

“Well you might not be high or drunk,” Harvey said, stepping in front of Mike to keep him from walking off. He was neither confirming nor denying Mike’s sarcastic rationale. “But you might have a concussion.” Harvey looked him up and down. “Wait here,” he mumbled.

Mike knew that he didn’t have any symptoms of a concussion, but he said nothing as Harvey walked over to his companion. They spoke quietly for a moment, and the conversation ended when Harvey squeezed the man’s arm and said something that sounded like: “Next time.” As Harvey’s acquaintance walked off back in the direction they’d come from, Mike couldn’t help but feel guilty for interfering. The embarrassment began subsiding a little but the discomfort of being an imposition was growing painful.

When Harvey waved him inside, he didn’t object.   

Mike followed Harvey past the wary security guard, past the elevators, and into a small room that Harvey gained access to by punching in a five-digit code on a panel. There was nothing in the room but an elevator and a mail box. Harvey led Mike into the elevator and typed in the same code again. There were no other buttons, so Mike assumed it could only go one place. He tried not to mention James Bond or reveal how fascinated he was by the private elevator. His head was pounding, so it was easier to be quiet than he’d expected, but he wanted to say _something._

“I’m really sorry to interrupt your night like this,” Mike finally said, though he was sure now that it was obvious he wouldn’t have done so if it wasn’t an emergency.

“He’s a friend,” Harvey said quickly, hardly responding to Mike’s apology. He wouldn’t make eye contact when Mike glanced over at him.

“It’s none of my business,” Mike admitted as casually as possible, taken aback by Harvey’s defensive response. He’d been trying not to read into it. The man was young and effeminate, with narrow, sly features. Everything about his appearance reeked of class and sophistication. Mike didn’t know him, but he didn’t like him. Something about Harvey’s “friend” rubbed him the wrong way and he simply felt that his boss could do better. Someone less delicate. Someone a little rougher around the edges.

“He’s attractive,” Mike commented under his breath, before he could stop himself, as if to prove to Harvey that he wasn’t judging. Of course he was judging the other man. Not Harvey. Mike looked down at his shoes.

After seeming to consider Mike’s observation for a few seconds, Harvey scoffed with an audible grin. “He’s not my type.”

Again, Mike tried very hard not to read much into the response and hoped that he hadn’t been rudely presumptuous. But he had made assumptions before. For such a private person, it always struck Mike as odd that Harvey so unabashedly flirted day in and day out with both woman and men (namely Mike). Maybe it was his innate charm, but flirting was like a hobby to him. That’s why Mike was both surprised and intrigued when Harvey was so quick to spell out his allegedly platonic relationship to the attractive young man who was about to accompany him to his penthouse after midnight. What was he so worried about?

The glass elevator came to a halt in Harvey’s apartment and they stepped out into the living room. The décor and view were even more impressive than Mike remembered, from what very little he’d seen. But at the moment he didn’t care about any of it. He just wanted to clean himself, get warm, drink some water, sleep… but he didn’t know how to ask for any of that.

“Do you mind if I make a call?” As he was asking, he realized that Harvey could have just lent him his cell phone downstairs. It wouldn’t have been necessary to cancel his plans and bring Mike up to his penthouse for the phone call he mentioned.

Totally disregarding Mike’s question, Harvey walked into another room – the kitchen, from what he could see. Mike stayed where he was, not knowing what else to do.

“ _Shower’s down the hall to your right,”_ Harvey called from the other room. “ _There’s a phone by the door. I suggest calling your bank and cancelling your credit cards tonight. Cut off your phone service. Do the rest tomorrow on your lunch break. The couch is more comfortable than it looks.”_ Harvey emerged again with a glass of cool water and handed it to Mike.

Mike took the water gratefully and drank back half the glass, somewhat surprised by the terse but generous hospitality Harvey was offering. Harvey was the one who took drinks from him. It was backwards. The smallest gesture from Harvey – a glass of water – was not something Mike would overlook or take lightly.

It wasn’t until then that he realized how shaken he’d really been by the whole ordeal. It was true that he’d been on the wrestling team in high school, but that was a controlled environment where he knew that his opponent wasn’t carrying any concealed weapons. If he hadn’t fought back he’d still be in the same place, though in a lot less pain. But for all he knew, he was lucky to be alive.

“What happened to you?”

Mike knew he was being asked about his injuries. “It happened really fast. But I think just a couple punches to the face and a kick in the ribs. Bumped my elbow on the sidewalk. And my knees. I guess my head, too.”

“All that getting mugged?” Harvey asked, crossing his arms skeptically.

“I chased him,” Mike explained, not feeling as proud of himself as he’d hoped to at the time. “And I tackled him. It went on for… a few blocks I guess.”

“He could have been armed,” Harvey warned, veiling his worry with disappointment. “You could have been stabbed. Shot. Who the hell knows. I can buy you new stuff, but I can’t buy a new associate.”

“I’ll remember that next time.” Mike covered his mouth with the glass and drank back the rest of his water, thirsty and exhausted. Of course Harvey was right, but he was amused by how he had made the situation sound like a financial burden on him. Technically speaking, Harvey _could_ buy a new associate, but Mike appreciated the sentiment.

Harvey took the empty glass from Mike’s hands. “Go clean up and slap a bandage on that before you bleed on something. Use what you need in the bathroom. I don’t think you have a concussion, but still… try not to pass out.”

“Thanks.”

= **=** =

In the privacy of Harvey’s bathroom, Mike stripped and examined himself in the wide mirror. He looked worse than he’d imaged, and as his body slowly warmed, the pain was coming back to him. His lip was swollen, his face and arms were riddled with pink scrapes and emerging bruises. When he saw the blood by his eyebrow he remembered hitting the side of his face on the sidewalk when he fell for the last time. That had been his moment of resignation, but the thief had landed one last totally unnecessary kick to the ribs out of sheer anger at Mike’s stubbornness. And in a way, it was understandable.

He stepped behind the glass doors of the shower stall and let the water rush over his face. Exhaling deeply, his head fell back and he closed his eyes. Despite the long window panel claiming one wall of the shower that should have made him feel exposed, he felt distinctly safe. It was an unexpected sensation, and made him realize again how much danger he may have been in. As comforting as the hot water felt, the steam made his head throb harder and the designer soap – clay and lavender, he noted – stung his irritated skin when he washed himself. 

Mike finished his shower quickly and stepped back out onto the soft bathmat. He poked through some cupboards until he found a towel and some bandages. As he dried himself, he examined his body once more in the mirror. He certainly looked cleaner without the dust of the city clinging to his shallow wounds, and not so pale now that he’d warmed up. The water obviously hadn’t erased any of the damage, which was light, all things considered. The meanest bruise, the one on his ribs, wouldn’t surface for another day or so.

Thinking suddenly of his mother, Mike found a hinged panel on the mirror and opened it. He was looking for some kind of anti-bacterial ointment given that his deepest cut was so close to his eye, but he also got a bit of a kick out of snooping around his boss’ medicine cabinet. He found the high-end version of all the standard personal care items, including some vitamins and supplements, but not what he was looking for. He noticed a bottle of cologne and carefully lifted it from the shelf. He wanted to know what a millionaire smelled like. Bringing the bottle to his nose, he realized the scent was already familiar. He had never deliberately _smelled_ Harvey, nor had he realized that he’d subconsciously catalogued his scent. He couldn’t stop himself from inhaling deeply. The herbal, spicy aroma was remarkably calming. Mike remembered reading that scent is the most powerful sense-memory, although Harvey’s temperament wasn’t exactly _soothing_ so he doubted the theory.

He put the bottle back in its place, fought the temptation to sample some very expensive looking moisturizer, and instead he turned his attention to the Aspirin that he badly needed for his headache. But then he saw two amber prescription pill bottles tucked in the upper corner of the cabinet. Unable to resist, he pulled them down and scanned the labels.

Vicodin and Ambien.

Mike gulped. When it came to snooping in someone else’s bathroom, he’d hit the jackpot, and he couldn’t have discovered the pills at a more appropriate time. Both bottles seemed full. Surely Harvey wouldn’t notice if each were one pill lighter. It was an easy decision. Mike ran the water in the sink to mask the sound of his popping each lid and slipping a pill out of each bottle. His heart was racing in anticipation of the pain relief he was craving. Quickly, he put the bottles back where he found them and, without another thought, tossed the pills into the back of his mouth followed by a couple handfuls of cold water. It had been a rough night.

Mike stood at the sink watching the water swish down the drain for a few seconds before he turned it off. He wondered why Harvey had the pills. He always seemed so sharp and focused, so Mike was certain that he wasn’t using opiates and narcotics recreationally. At least not during the week. There was so much he didn’t know about him, it was a wonder that they worked so well together. Although, perhaps one of the reasons they worked so well together was _because_ of how little Mike knew of Harvey’s personal life. He hoped that wasn’t the case because he had learned a lot in the past fifteen minutes, though most of it was admittedly speculation. Maybe Harvey was a closeted bisexual insomniac. It shouldn’t have sounded so ridiculous in his head considering that the description probably fit at least 10% of New York City’s population. Only one of those things applied to himself.

Mike quickly covered the cut on his head with a small bandage and turned to pick up the clothes he’d discarded. That’s when he noticed a small grey bundle at the foot of the bathroom door. Hervey must have decided to lend him something to sleep in, which felt odd but appreciated. As he gathered the grey sweatpants and t-shirt, he turned back to the glass-encased shower and realized that Harvey would have seen the back of him showering naked when he dropped off the clothes inside the door. It meant absolutely nothing, but it was a strange feeling. Mike already felt strange being in his boss’ apartment, let alone showering there and borrowing his things. He was in an unfamiliar space for the night with no fresh clothes or toothbrush. Normally this was the morning-after-a-date routine. Not that he could imagine going on a date with Harvey Specter, but if he did, he certainly would not have spent the night. Maybe “date” was the wrong word…

Realizing that he’d been avoiding leaving the bathroom and venturing back into Harvey’s apartment, Mike finally slid his briefs and socks back on and dressed himself in Harvey’s clothes. Unlike the suit he’d once borrowed, these fit. Because they were Harvey’s, even something as simple as sweatpants and a t-shirt felt unusually soft and distinctly expensive.

When Mike crept back into the living room, Harvey was nowhere to be seen. There were some blankets and a pillow on the couch, so that’s where he dumped his clothes and shoes. Then he spotted the phone and decided that he would make the necessary calls. Fortunately it was a fairly speedy process, already having the necessary information catalogued in his memory. His bank and phone companies both advised him to file a police report, which he assured them that he would (although he hadn’t decided yet if he would bother), and that he simply hadn’t had the opportunity yet. Fortunately, no charges had been made to his cards before the bank terminated them. He didn’t feel much better once that order of business was done – he still didn’t have any money or keys or phone. Maybe Harvey would lend him a bit of cash to get him through his Friday, but he wouldn’t ask. He would wait for Harvey to offer. Hopefully he could catch a lift to work with him in the morning.

Mike hung up the phone and yawned, glancing back at the couch. It was a stark arrangement, but tranquil and safe.  If Harvey hadn’t come home when he did, Mike would still be on foot, maybe halfway across the Williamsburg Bridge by now on his way to Jenny’s place, and who knew what she would have been up to. Probably just hunched over the drafting table at home with a cup of sake, surrounded by clever knick-knacks she’d collected on her travels. Her shoulders would get sore around this time of night. Mike imagined massaging them for her, feeling her relax under his hands, her sunshine-blonde hair falling back over his hands with a tip of her head…

But it did nothing for him.

The penthouse wasn’t exactly “homey” but he was starting to get a little more comfortable there. There was always something about being with Jenny, especially in her apartment, that tickled some guilt deep down inside him. Ever since things had started to go sour with Trevor, Mike knew it was only a matter of time before Jenny would slip out of his life completely. They were both still clinging to the good old days when everyone lied and no one was happy.

Mike was just about to resign to the couch when he heard a sound and looked up to see that Harvey had just opened the door to his balcony, which is where he’d been hiding, apparently. He hadn’t changed his clothes and he had a beer in his hand, becoming the final accessory to a home that now looked more like a nightclub.

“My guest bedroom doesn’t have a bed anymore,” Harvey explained. “So the couch will have to do.”

“I really appreciate it,” Mike told him, wondering if there was a story behind the absent guest bed. If it had been anyone else’s apartment, his first thought would have been bed bugs. “I think I’ll crash pretty hard tonight so it doesn’t really matter where I sleep as long as it’s indoors.”

Harvey nodded. “If it’s not past your bed time, come out for a night cap. Not afraid of heights are you?”

“No. I like them.” It annoyed him that Harvey was fully aware of how impressive his home was. It was almost vulgar. But the fact that he was being spoken to as a friend (no matter how condescendingly) rather than an employee was what impressed him most.

Harvey cracked a barely evident smile. He nodded towards the balcony and stepped back outside, adding, “It’s heated.”

“Of course it is,” Mike murmured to himself.

Mike stepped out onto the patio/balcony and closed the door behind him. He was fine with being so high above the ground at Pearson Hardman because there was a wall to keep him in, but in the open air it was a little more nerve-wracking. He’d never lived anywhere higher than he could safely fall from. But, because Harvey was watching him, he made a point of walking right up to the edge. His nerves didn’t kick in the way they expected them to. It must have been the pills. All the better – he hated for Harvey to see him nervous.

Harvey picked up a bottle from a table and offered it to Mike, but the thought of mixing alcohol with the pills he’d taken a few minutes earlier seemed like a recipe for nausea.

“I’d better not.”

“It’s okay, it’s imported,” Harvey assured him.

Well, it wasn’t hard liquor. Not wanting to reject anything Harvey offered him, especially given that he normally only handed him legal documents, Mike took the bottle with a quick smile. Harvey nodded, as if Mike had just passed a test.

“Anything essential in your bag?”

“No, nothing. Just my phone, keys, wallet…”

“Any documents, anything from the firm.”

“Just a copy of the Jameson-Templeton merger proposal.” It could have been a lot worse. “It’s not a problem, the information wasn’t very sensitive and I’ve already read it.”

“I haven’t read it.”

“But _I have_.” How long would it take for Harvey to wrap his head around these things? “If we can’t get another one faxed over quickly enough I’ll just transcribe it. I can get Rachel to do it while I dictate. She’s fast.”

“What’s the deal with you and her?” Harvey propped his elbow against the railing, leaning into the barrier. “Didn’t you two get married?”

“She’s not my type,” he responded, deliberate echoing Harvey’s earlier remark. (He didn’t seem impressed by that.) Initially, Mike had fallen for Rachel fast and hard but the longer he knew her the more he realized that he desired Rachel as nothing more than a friend. They were very compatible in that sense. The kiss had been exciting, but it wasn’t worth the complications in his work life or personal life. The idea of sex with Rachel seemed entirely off-limits if he wanted to continue to work with her and share a friendship. The idea of having a friendship, a sexual relationship and a working relationship with one person was totally unmanageable. He told himself that over and over again, and he would continue reminding himself as long as he was in Harvey’s apartment.

“I thought that you and her and the blonde were in some kind of polyamorous arrangement,” Harvey continued.

Harvey was joking, but he was still digging. It was unusual for him to be so round-about when he wanted to know something, and Mike wondered if there was any reason for it, or if it was because this was one of their first conversations that wasn’t necessarily related to work. Although, they _were_ talking about work…  just not _doing_ work. The fact that Harvey had given any thought or speculation to Mike’s personal life, no matter how ridiculous, was oddly flattering.

“No,” Mike answered, though he probably didn’t need to. “No, I’m not exactly amorous with either of them right now. They’re friends.” He paused. “If that,” he added cautiously. It was a tense situation and at that point he was just waiting for the whole thing to blow over with both Jenny and Rachel.

Harvey nodded and turned out to the city. The bottle was hanging from Harvey’s fingers over the ledge, and Mike could almost hear it shatter. Harvey’s confidence extended down to each and every simple gesture he made. Of course he would never drop the bottle.

Mike leaned his back up against the railing, looking in at Harvey’s empty apartment. Sleek lines, grey pallete, spotless ceiling-to-floor glass… a macramé throw blanket had never seen the inside of that apartment. It wasn’t Mike’s style, but it was serene. The balcony felt safe. It was all so controlled and organized. And he realized that the first wave of tension was leaving his body as the Vicodin began to take effect. He politely took a sip of his beer.

“So what _is_ your type?”

If either of them had asked that question, Mike had expected it to be him, but it was Harvey. He felt as if he was being interviewed again. The questions were coming out of the blue.

“Why? You want to set me up?”

Harvey shrugged. “Now that you mention it, my friend you saw downstairs is single.”

Mike studied Harvey’s face, but he was looking far away over Manhattan and his expression was unreadable.

“I can’t tell if you’re joking or not.”

“You’re the one who said he was attractive.”

“I was being nice!”

Harvey only raised an eyebrow with a sideways glance and, right on cue, the next wave of indifference drained the defensive impulses from Mike’s body.

“I thought he was your boyfriend,” Mike admitted. “I was paying _you_ a compliment.”

Harvey turned to face Mike, one hand in his pocket, looking utterly comfortable. He cracked a grin, as if he’d tricked Mike into admitting something. Well, he had. Mike hadn’t planned to drop the b-word, but he didn’t think it would hurt to speak his mind. What other assumption could he have made?

“You have it _so_ wrong,” Harvey mused. At least he wasn’t angry. Mr. Bond had a reputation to maintain, after all.

“Whatever,” Mike sighed, looking back up at the sky. It was so close at that height. Submerged below the pleasant numbness, Mike was disappointed. It had been exciting to imagine that he knew something taboo and private about Harvey, his boss, Manhattan playboy, big-shot attorney.

“David is _not_ my boyfriend,” Harvey confirmed. “He’s just a fuck buddy.” He took another swig of his beer like it was the most ordinary conversation in the world.

Mike counted a few stars before the reality of what Harvey said hit him. He almost laughed and wasn’t sure what was stopping him.

“Um.” That was all he could manage.

“Don’t act surprised. I know you took my Vicodin – you couldn’t give a shit if you tried,” Harvey accused, casually. He seemed utterly pleased with himself for figuring it out. Mike thought he’d rather just be yelled at. He tried to summon due panic, but it didn’t work.

“I’m not trying to get my kicks. I’m in pain,” he explained truthfully. “You told me to use what I needed.”

Harvey knocked back the rest of his beer, put the empty bottle on the table, then Mike felt Harvey’s fingers on his as he pried the bottle from his hand with no protest.

“No fainting. No vomiting. Those are the house rules, got it? You shouldn’t mix narcotics with alcohol.”

“But you told me to take the beer.”

“Well I didn’t tell you to take my pills and you went ahead and did that on your own. I want you to think for yourself, Mike, but you always choose the wrong time to do it.”

He put the bottle on the table a looked Mike square in the eye. He wasn’t just looking – he was thinking, evaluating, _staring_ , and Mike took it gladly. He so often went completely unnoticed at work and craved this attention from his mentor. Harvey was searching for something, but Mike couldn’t determine what it was. His only honest response to what Harvey told him would have to be kept to himself. If he opened his mouth again, he couldn’t predict what might have come out of him.

“Goodnight,” was all Harvey said before going back inside, leaving the door open behind him.

Mike was dazed, stunned, and thoroughly amused. He could hardly believe what Harvey had left him with. His heart started to thud slow and hard inside his chest, pulling him closer to sleep with each beat, but he fought it. He wanted to be alert and bask in the shock value of Harvey’s little revelation. Despite his utter painlessness, he regretted taking the medication. Perhaps Harvey was teaching him a lesson about sobriety with a joke, but Mike was pretty sure he wasn’t joking. The truth was in the way he had touched David’s arm outside. This may have also confirmed that there something truthful to the idle flirting he’d endured over the past several months of Harvey’s employ. Mike could never be sure if he’d imagined it or not.

“Stop,” Mike told himself. “Stop thinking about it.”

For the first time since he’d met Harvey, it was easy to stop that train of thought because of the chemical molasses in his head. Unfortunately, it may also have been the first time he could have justified allowing himself to consider…

The possibility.

Harvey had confided in him, and waited for a reaction. What did he expect? The one thing that managed to prick at Mike was the feeling that maybe he had disappointed Harvey in his lack of response to the outing – because that’s what it was. Harvey had, in a small and casual way, just come out to Mike. Friends had come out to him before, looking for acceptance reassurance. With someone as confident as Harvey, what could he possibly say? Did anyone else know? And why was he sexually involved with someone who wasn’t his “type”?

Rational thoughts became imagery. Now that he knew the truth, he could easily imagine Harvey with the younger man, but he didn’t want to. So he imagined Harvey with himself, just as easily as he always had. Maybe that was the response Harvey was looking for.

“Stop,” he reminded himself again, clutching the balcony railing, focusing his mind on the metal in his hands. All too simply, the light in the back of his mind flickered out.

A fierce yawn took him by surprise and Mike found his way to the couch, barely remembering to shut the balcony door behind him.

= **=** =

It was still dark when Mike woke, but he had no concept of how long he’d slept. He immediately knew where he was, but he didn’t remember why he was there until he rolled onto his side and felt a sharp pain in his ribs. He must have been out for at least four hours because the Vicodin was wearing off. It seemed as though the Ambien had done little more than simply knock him out, but he didn’t know what to expect. He was usually a very sound sleeper and had never taken the stuff before. Instinctively, Mike thought to reach for his phone to check the time, but then he again reminded himself why he was there. No phone. He sat up and looked out the window. There was a touch of navy blue on the horizon of the otherwise black sky (or as black as the sky could ever be in Manhattan). Dawn wasn’t far off.

At least the headache was gone, but pressing his hand experimentally to the sore ribs underneath Harvey’s t-shirt, Mike knew what woke him. He wanted to numb the pain again, but he decided to move to the next option. In search of ice, he turned on a lamp, pushed himself to his feet and crept into the kitchen.

The floor was astonishingly quiet, and Mike was grateful, not wanting to wake Harvey. The clock on the stove (which looked like it had never been used) read 4:50. He might have been able to squeeze in another hour of sleep if he was lucky. Glancing around the pristine kitchen, he found a clean towel and quickly went about filling it with some ice from the freezer, twisting the corners together.

“Can I help you?”

Mike jumped at the voice in the dark and turned to see Harvey watching him quizzically from the door frame. He was wearing boxers and the same blue shirt he’d been wearing earlier, loosened. Mike didn’t know what he expected Harvey to wear to sleep – he couldn’t recall ever thinking about it – but he didn’t expect street clothes. It was humanizing.

“I was looking for some ice. I didn’t think I’d wake you.”

“I was up,” Harvey told him, crossing his arms. “You’re not getting water all over my couch.”

“Um...” Mike looked down and the damp mound of cloth and ice in his hand.

“ _Um._ It’s always _um_ with you tonight.” He was referring to Mike’s earlier response on the balcony when Harvey had divulged the nature of his relationship with David. “Put it in the sink,” Harvey instructed.

Mike turned and dumped everything in the sink, feeling Harvey brush past him at the same time. When he turned again, Harvey was offering him a leak-proof gel pack he’d taken out of the freezer. Mike hadn’t noticed it before.

“Technology,” Harvey explained.

Mike shivered as Harvey reached behind him to take the cloth out of the sink. He wrapped it around the gel pack and handed it to Mike, who pressed it to his side.

“If you don’t sleep well,” Mike asked, before he could stop himself, “Why don’t you take the Ambien?”

“How I sleep is none of your business.”

Harvey’s tone was as cold as the frozen pack that Mike pressed against his ribs, and he shivered again. Maybe it was a stupid question anyway – Mike had taken a pill four hours ago and he was awake again. But that said more about the chemistry of the pill than it did about Harvey’s choice to stay awake. Mike swallowed hard, the distinct feeling that he was in trouble telling him that the Vicodin had officially run its course. Neither of them budged until Harvey’s eyes flickered down to the gel pack Mike was clutching.

“It must have taken quite the blow to wake you up from that coma you knocked yourself into. Could be a broken rib.” His voice thawed a little. “It doesn’t take much to land a broken rib.”

“It was _two prescription pills_ ,” Mike protested, exhausted, frustrated with Harvey’s exaggeration.  
  
"Not your prescription."  
  
“Not a coma. And if I was broken, I’d know.”

Harvey cocked his head to the side with a strange expression, seeming to consider what Mike had said.

“You should try to get some more sleep,” Harvey told him. It was more of an observation than a suggestion because he still had Mike trapped between his body and the kitchen sink, but he seemed so tired that Mike doubted that he was aware of what he was doing.

“Okay,” Mike agreed quietly.

Neither of them moved. Mike couldn’t. His heart was racing.

“I don’t take the pills, because I lose too much time when I do,” Harvey finally answered, returning to Mike’s earlier question. It was clear he hadn’t had much practice discussing his personal life, which was perhaps why he was so quick to shut down personal questions. “If I’m up at night, at least I can get some reading done or work things over in my head. I’ll be tired in the morning, sure. But if I take Ambien, I won’t get anything done at night and I’ll still be tired in the morning. That stuff puts me to sleep but it doesn’t give me any rest.”

“So you’re just up thinking tonight,” Mike echoed. “Thinking about what?” He was pushing it. He couldn’t resist. He felt his face redden a little, knowing he was way out of bounds. Harvey was standing so close that Mike could feel his heat and it was difficult to keep his voice and his gaze steady. He curled his free hand around the ledge of the counter behind him to keep it occupied. Harvey seemed totally oblivious to what he was doing. In the office, Mike could handle it – the staring, the proximity – Harvey was a very confident person and he had a certain way of interacting with people. But in that dark kitchen, alone with him, it was an entirely new battle. As usual, Harvey was winning.

“Take a wild guess.” Harvey was studying his face.

So Mike did take a wild guess: “David?” But he was surprised when Harvey nodded.

“Thinking that… maybe I shouldn’t have told you what I did about him. And me.” Harvey was having some difficulty discussing it, and admitting that he may have made a mistake. But Mike didn’t know why it was wrong for Harvey to tell him.

“You lied?” Mike swallowed hard, unable to conceal his nervousness but wanting to keep Harvey there with him, talking. He didn’t think Harvey had lied, but he wanted to hear him confirm the truth.

Harvey rubbed his eyes with a faint, dry chuckle. Mike wondered when the last time he slept was. Harvey was usually so _on_ and _focused_ , and he was only just now realizing how much effort it must have taken for him to be that way at work when he clearly was not friends with sleep. It would explain why is patience ran so thin.

“It’s not information that you need. So just forget about it. I’ll wake you in an hour,” Harvey murmured, and stepped away at last.

Mike didn’t know what made Harvey pause until he saw his hand on his waist. He couldn’t recall deciding to put it there. Harvey was looking down at his hand, totally immobile, processing the meaning. Even once Mike realized that he’d hooked an arm around his boss, he couldn’t undo it. It was worth waiting to see what would happen. Knowing now that Harvey had consented to other men having their arms around him made him feel safer taking this risk. It was a risk that he probably never could have found the courage to take when Harvey was dressed in a suit. Mike knew he wasn’t bad-looking, and he was smart, and Harvey chose to hire him specifically because he was unique and exciting. If Harvey was interested in men, why shouldn’t he be interested in Mike? That was the line of justification he’d been unwilling to consider for months, but now he couldn’t stop himself. He pressed cautious fingertips into Harvey’s flesh, just a little.

Harvey covered Mike’s hand with his own. It was warm. But the warmth only lasted a second because Harvey was peeling back Mike’s fingers.

“Keep your hands to yourself.” Harvey’s voice became low and dark, strangely seeming to lack his usual confidence. He handed Mike’s arm back to him.

Mike quickly and quietly crossed his arms tightly in front of him over the ice pack, dropping his head in embarrassment, heart smashing up against his ribcage. Harvey’s change in tone made him nervous, knotting his gut. It was only a touch. He had to remind himself that he was being inconveniently accommodated, and that Harvey was helping him through a sort of personal emergency. They’d already broken down enough professional boundaries for one night. It was irresponsible for him to keep pushing. It wasn’t why he’d gone there. If it hadn’t been for David, and what Harvey chose to divulge about him, Mike never would have tried to justify his curiosity. He would have happily continued to ignore it for the rest of his days at Pearson Hardman.

Harvey wouldn’t look at him, but he wasn’t leaving the room, either.

“I’m not gay,” Harvey explained carefully.

“I know that.”

Harvey finally dragged his eyes from the floor to Mike’s face after a painful silence. He seemed more concerned than offended, but Mike would have preferred offended. The harsher responses were easier to make sense of. For a long time Mike had been willing to accept that Harvey wasn’t gay. Hell, he already _knew_ that Harvey wasn’t gay, and neither was Mike (although as of late it would seem that the pendulum had swung further in that direction). Labels were none of his concern. Harvey’s emotions and desires were what interested him – all the things he could only sense but never see. But he began to consider that perhaps what he’d told him before about David _had_ been a joke. Perhaps he’d heard what he wanted to hear. If that were the case then Mike had made a big mistake.

Mike put the ice pack down on the counter. He’d forgotten he was holding it because his hand had gone numb.

“Go back to sleep. I can’t deal with this right now.” Harvey leaned back against the counter, seeming intent on staying there. He was looking down at the floor and a loose lock of hair fell across his brow – Mike had never seen that before. He was undone.

“I’m sorry,” Mike whispered quickly, unable to find his breath again, the embarrassment of his presumptuous actions and words catching up with him. Harvey probably wanted to kick him out and likely would have if Mike had somewhere to go. Mike couldn’t bear to lay any more weight on Harvey’s shoulders. He could see the regret weighing down on him already, although Harvey hadn’t done anything wrong. Mike moved quickly for the living room with his head down, hoping he hadn’t irrevocably fucked things up between them. Maybe it was best just to leave for the night. It was only a touch, but Harvey couldn’t cope. Strangely, that was the one thing that confirmed that there was something between them.  

A hand found his back. Mike turned and suddenly felt the wall behind him.

“Harvey--”

“You have no idea how hard I have tried not to let it get to this point.”

Mike was stunned. Confused. He felt Harvey’s hands on his neck but he was afraid to touch him. Harvey had not given him permission, but it seemed he was waiting for Mike’s. So without touching, without thinking, Mike cautiously brought his face next to Harvey’s and the heat radiating from his skin drained the fear from his heart instantly. Harvey’s thumb moved up to trace his bottom lip and Mike took it gently between his teeth, automatically. Harvey slid his thumb back out and brought Mike’s face in front of his so that they were nose-to-nose.

“I don’t want this,” Harvey whispered, even as his lips moved feather-light against Mike’s while he spoke.

Mike shivered and opened his mouth reflexively, his breath trapped in his lungs, but Harvey would not deepen the contact.

“Me either,” Mike breathed. “I need it, though.” Their lips touched again with the last word. As much as he worried that it might have burdened Harvey, it was a relief to get that off his chest after so long.

“I know,” Harvey responded, quickly enough to surprise Mike. “Me too.” His hand brushed across Mike’s chest and landed on his shoulder.

“I lied,” Mike confessed, encouraged by Harvey’s physical initiative. “I do want it.”

“That’d because you don’t know what you’re getting yourself into.”

Mike bit his lip and pressed his palms flat against the cool wall behind him, fighting every natural instinct in his body. Whatever was going on, Harvey had told him to keep his hands to himself and he wasn’t about to ignore that. He was uncertain of how to respond to these radially mixed signals. Harvey’s desire was clear to him now – but what exactly he expected from Mike was still uncertain.

“This is my fault,” Harvey told Mike sternly. He ran his hands down Mike’s arms to his wrists, forcing another shudder out of him, pinning his arms against the wall as if sensing his difficulty in keeping them there on his own. And Mike understood. Harvey was attempting to alleviate him of the responsibility over this contact. Once that had become clear, Harvey finally closed the space between them in a deep, quiet kiss.

That was the first moment since waking on the couch that Mike knew this wasn’t a dream. He nearly sank to the floor, and maybe he would have if it was not for Harvey’s grip on his arms. He closed his eyes and heard his breath finally rasp out through his nose against Harvey’s cheek as he drowned in his smooth mouth. An icey heat gripped his stomach and worked its way up to his chest, then down to his hips. Instinctively he tugged at Harvey’s grip, wanting to touch him. Hold him. Show him that he wanted it. That it was good, and that nothing bad would come of it. But Harvey’s hands were strong, so he succumbed to everything, lost in the unexpected sensations.

Those lips found their way down Mike’s chin, jaw, and finally his neck. It wasn’t like the cotton-candy kisses that he was used to, having only been with women for the past few years. This is what he had been craving. Harvey’s mouth became eager and strong, almost rough, using teeth to force a deep groan from Mike’s throat. With those teeth exciting his sensitive skin, he felt himself growing hard in his pants – _Harvey’s_ pants – and he didn’t try to stop it or hide it. It was all happening too fast, but he wanted to let it happen. Harvey obviously felt that he was swelling through their thin clothing, pushing his hips firmly against Mike’s with undeniable eagerness and acceptance.  Sandwiched between the wall and Harvey’s solid frame, with his hands trapped behind his back, Mike couldn’t move. Harvey covered Mike’s mouth with his own again, physically consuming his whole body now so that even if Mike had wanted to stop him, he wasn’t sure he could. And he liked that. Because nothing would make him want to stop.

Mike slipped into a vague awareness of reality defined only by raw, dizzy sensation. He had no choice. All he could do was respond to Harvey’s rocking hips and wet mouth with his own. Eventually he had to break the kiss to catch his breath when he felt through the thin layers of fabric between them that Harvey was quickly growing hard as well. The reality hit him hard. Harvey moaned, which was a sound completely new to Mike, and he pulled again at his trapped arms, wanting to reach down into Harvey’s boxers and feel his heat.

“Please,” Mike whispered dizzily, panting against his ear. “Let go.” He only wanted his arms free so that he could pull Harvey even closer to him, but at the same time, he wasn’t sure he wanted any part of him let go.

With his face pressed into Mike’s neck, Harvey shook his head. “I can’t.”

Mike bit his lip, hard, unbearably aroused. All he had wanted since he met Harvey was to be wanted by him.

Harvey crossed Mike’s wrists behind his back and crushed them there behind his body, leaning into him, and now using his hands to explore Mike’s neck, shoulders, chest, melting him… Mike knew he could have freed his hands at that point, but he wanted to prove that he was willing to do this on Harvey’s terms.

Mike unintentionally gave a sharp cry, jolting when Harvey’s fingers dug into his aching (and possibly broken) ribcage.

Harvey let go and backed away.

“Don’t stop,” Mike pleaded. He stepped back into Harvey’s body, his freed hands immediately finding Harvey’s shoulders. But Harvey caught his hands again and he gently pushed Mike back to arm’s length, holding him back.

“We have to stop,” Harvey told him. He was flustered and breathless, which only turned Mike on more. “Mike, listen.” So he tried. “We… _can’t_ be doing this, you understand?” Harvey still had a hand on his shoulder. His grip was firm.

Mike nodded, but was unable to think. His only impulse was to sink to his knees right there and change Harvey’s mind, but he didn’t let himself.

“Good.” Harvey sighed and ran his hands through his hair. “So we'll put the whole thing behind us and start fresh in the morning.”

“Fresh in the morning, got it.” Mike nodded, trying to catch his breath, but he couldn’t help but observe: “It’s morning now.” The sun hadn’t come up yet, but there was a cool blue light seeping into the kitchen through the windows.

Harvey gave him a look, and Mike knew it well. It was the _what-the-hell-am-I-supposed-to-do-with-you_ look. And when he left the room, Mike knew it was because if he stayed any longer he risked not being able to put a stop to what they were doing.

Harvey’s bedroom door slammed on the other side of the penthouse.

Mike was hot, cold and shaken. He felt the need to determine if this thing that happened was good or bad or if he’d won or lost, but he knew that it wasn’t about any of that. There was no doubt in his mind that they would both have to go to work the next day and pretend that everything was exactly the same. In reality, things were different now, perhaps permanently. One thing was certain: he wouldn’t be getting any more sleep that morning.

 

= **=** =

After about an hour of restlessness, Mike took a few minutes to himself on the balcony, enjoying the view and the warmth of the morning sun before Harvey emerged from his bedroom again. The city looked different from Harvey’s penthouse – almost foreign – and Mike could understand how a view like that could begin to shape a person’s perspective after some time. He could barely hear the traffic below. It was serene. No wonder Harvey walked around like he was untouchable. 

They spoke very little that morning. While Mike showered, Harvey went downstairs to use the building’s gym facilities. When he returned he showered and groomed himself, then gave Mike a cup of coffee and a charcoal suit. He explained that it had been taken in too far by the tailor and he hadn’t gotten around to having it repaired because he didn’t particularly like it in the first place. Mike found that it did fit him quite well, which was a relief, although the tie was a little wide for his frame. Harvey had given it to him under the premise that there was no time to go back to his apartment before work to collect a new set of keys and pick up a change of clothes. (Mike knew it was far too early in the morning to track down his superintendent anyway.) There were also fresh socks and briefs tucked in with the clothing, which didn’t surprise Mike too much because they looked as though they’d never been worn.

Before they left, Harvey made him drink a green smoothie (which only tasted half as bad as it looked), shave, and use some mouthwash. Ray picked them up at 7:00 and they were in the office minding their work by 7:20. It was as if nothing had happened the night before. In the daylight, looking back, the evening seemed so surreal that it was easier to pretend than he’d expected. Although when they weren’t interacting at all, there was little need to actively pretend anything.

= **=** =

“Woah,” Rachel laughed, stopping in her tracks when she saw Mike at the fax machine. “What happened to you?”

Mike touched the bandage on the side of his head, barely looking up. “You should see the other guy,” he joked, but it was weak. Finally the machine hummed and began turning out page after page of the merger proposal, replacing the one he’d lost the night before. He was relieved to have something to turn his attention to so that he could avoid discussing any further details with Rachel.

“Nice tie.”

“It’s Harvey’s,” Mike mumbled without thinking, watching the machine. Realizing that he probably shouldn’t have mentioned it he looked up but Rachel was already gone. Always research to be done. It occurred to him that had he known Rachel’s address and spent the night at her place, he wouldn’t have had anything to wear that day.

At 8:30 Mike intended on bringing Harvey the proposal, but he procrastinated for an hour by obtaining a new secutiry pass and didn’t work up the nerve to face him until 9:30. (Un)fortunately, Donna stopped him on his way in.

“Ah-ah…” She outstretched an open hand. “Is that the merger proposal?”

“Harvey told me he needed a copy.”

“Leave it with me. I’ll give it to him.” The coffee in her other hand was feeding a direct line of caffeine to the fingers she wiggled attached to her hungry, outstretched palm.

“Why?” Mike’s stomach sank. Had Harvey asked Donna not to let him in?

“Phone.”

Mike could see that Harvey was deeply engaged in a phone call, chair swivelled towards his window, and he felt a little better knowing that Donna wasn’t just helping Harvey avoid him. He handed her the file and turned to leave.

“Wait, Mike, come here.” She stood and put her coffee down.

Mike nervously glanced into Harvey’s office, and then back towards Donna, who came around her desk towards him.

“Why? What did I do?” He caught himself taking a step backwards.

Donna’s eyes widened. “Mike. Not everything is about you. I need a hug, okay? Can you do that for me?” She opened her arms. “For Donna?”

Mike froze. “I… guess so,” he agreed, not wanting to see her cry, and especially not wanting to see everyone else see him making her cry. Maybe Harvey had been giving her a hard time (his mood was impossible to read that morning) and it was possible that she really did need a hug. He stepped in and wrapped his arms around Donna carefully. It was like hugging someone else’s attractive aunt at a wedding: warm, soft and uncomfortable.

Donna was actually not as soft as she initially let on. She gave Mike an enthusiastic squeeze and he thought he felt a knife in his lung.

“You’re stabbing me in the back!” Mike wheezed. He tried to take a deep breath but the pain prevented his lungs from inflating. If he’d cracked a rib before, it was broken now.

“He was right.” Donna pulled back, holding on to Mike’s arm to keep him from doubling over, eyebrows raised in equal parts concern and caffeinated pep. “Time to go to the hospital, okay?” With a pat on his shoulder, she glanced back towards Harvey, who was still speaking on the phone but had turned his chair around to look up at Donna for a moment with an approving nod. Obviously he’d orchestrated this brutal hug. Mike tried to meet his eyes but Harvey wouldn’t oblige him. Donna reached back for the file, waved it in Harvey’s view, and then returned to her seat.

“I can’t go to the hospital,” Mike protested, even though he couldn’t take in as much air as he wanted to. Donna was making a phone call, hardly listening. “My meeting with Templeton was pushed forward to noon so I have to take my lunch break in an hour so I have time to go back to my apartment and –“

“Harvey can handle it,” Donna assured him.

“But I have to—“

“ _Harvey can handle it_.”

“But you don’t even know what I—“

“Your new keys are being couriered over to the office as we speak,” She said, covering the telephone receiver with her hand. “Harvey’s on the phone with Templeton right now, arranging to meet with him personally. You’ll need to stop at the bank on the way back, and you’ll need a new cell phone, too. Did you plan on filing a police report?” She removed her hand from her receiver as her call was answered on the other end. “Yes, I need a car in five minutes… Pearson Hardman. That’s correct…” Donna began rattling off a few numbers, one of which was Harvey’s corporate credit card.

Mike blinked, slack-jawed. Normally he didn’t like being taken care of this way, but if this was a taste of what it was like to have an assistant, he could understand the motivation to become a Partner. Donna was probably better at her job than anyone else at the firm ever would be at theirs. She finished her call and hung up.

“Even if I go to the hospital and they tell me I have a broken rib, they’re not going to do anything about it. Ribs heal themselves. What’s the point?”

“Harvey’s orders.” That pretty much settled it. “And assuming you don’t have a bone fragment piercing your lung, they won’t do _nothing_ ,” she elaborated. “They’ll probably give you a prescription for painkillers. Which, by the way, is how I’m going to know that you actually did what you were supposed to…”

Mike bit his tongue with a nod. “Did Harvey tell you that?”

No response. Donna was looking at her watch.

“What else did he tell you?” Donna was Harvey’s confidante but Mike suspected there was a limit somewhere. And it wasn’t even 10:00 in the morning yet, which wouldn’t have given him many opportunities to go into details.

Donna snorted. “As little as he thinks he can get away with. But I know.”

“What do you know?” _And how much? And how?_ He glanced over into Harvey’s office but he will still busy on a call.

Donna shrugged. “He’s worried about you,” she said simply, her green eyes meeting his for a moment.

Mike didn’t have anything to say to that. Hearing it discouraged any further protest.

“Your ride is downstairs waiting. You have him until 4:00.”

= **=** =

An exam and an x-ray concluded that Mike did not have a broken rib, but a “bruised” rib. He’d be sure not to use that word if Harvey asked, because it hardly seemed to justify the pain he was in, although the doctor assured him that the experience was similar to that of a fracture. Indeed, he was prescribed painkillers but had no intention of taking them before or during work. The doctor recommended a few days off. Obviously, that was out of the question.

Mike took the rest of the afternoon hopping in and out of the car, trying to replace the things he had lost. It was almost impossible to do so without I.D. but fortunately his memory served him and he was able to provide all the necessary details. It helped that he had his security pass. After he’d managed to finagle some cash out of his bank and put in an order for new plastic, he stopped for lunch and made an awkward attempt to treat his driver, who politely declined and chose to wait in the car. It was an uncomfortable day all-round. Mike was becoming increasingly nervous about the work that wasn’t being done. Despite Donna’s assurance that Harvey had the workload under control, he worried about the inconvenience. In a way, it was good to take some space away from Harvey for a few hours to get a clear head about what had transpired the night before. The only conclusion that Mike could draw was that he enjoyed what had happened between Harvey and him, and he wanted more. It felt right. He knew it was impractical and possibly unethical, but he couldn’t sway himself to feel any differently. All he could do was hope that he’d lose interest over time, because Harvey had made it clear that they would not continue. He’d held back this long, and he’d keep going if he had to. There was no alternative.

Deciding that he didn’t have the time or patience to file a police report, Mike was on his way back to Pearson Hardman by 4:00pm. It appeared to take much longer to replace things that had been stolen as opposed to broken. Not having his messenger bag anymore, his pockets were loaded with a bit of cash, a toothbrush and toothpaste, ointment, band-aids, a little bottle of prescription pain killers, a bottle of generic ibuprofen, and an upgraded cell phone that he had no idea how to use yet. At least he’d been able to keep the same phone number. People seemed to have problems with adjusting to those kinds of changes.

When he arrived back at the office, the first thing he did was gratefully brush his teeth in the restroom. He tried not to notice how Harvey’s suit looked on him in the mirror. He had to feel it on his skin all day which made it difficult enough to distance himself from the man. Quickly, Mike returned to his desk, feeling far more prepared to face the day than he had been that morning. He immediately noticed the post-it stuck to his computer monitor:

_‘Corporate leases on my desk._

_Dive in.’_

Mike took the post-it off the monitor and flipped it over.

_‘Be in my office when I get back.’_

Mike swallowed, unexpectedly anxious about Harvey’s request. He should have been relieved that he wasn’t being avoided, but not knowing when to expect Harvey or what he wanted to discuss was nerve-wracking. There was no time marked on the note, so Mike had not idea of when Harvey had left or when he would return. Mike took a deep breath, put the note in his pocket, and strode across the building to Harvey’s office before he could find something else to distract himself with.

Harvey wasn’t there.

“Donna, do you know when Harvey left?”

“You just missed him.” She didn’t look up from the binder in her hands.

“Do you know when he’ll be back?”

“No idea.” She looked up. “Do you have a doctor’s note?”

Mike reached into his pocket for the little bottle and put it on the desk in front of him.

Donna nodded. “What’s the verdict?”

“I’ll live. Other than some minor cuts and scrapes I've got a bruised rib… it’s worse than it sounds but not as bad as it could be. They recommended time off, but I'll manage."  
  
"Well," said Donna, turning her face towards the the binder again, "I'll try to make sure that Harvey doesn't ride you too hard for the next couple of weeks."  
  
Mike changed the subject immediately. "Is it alright if I work in Harvey’s office? He wants me to be there when he gets back.”

“Well if that’s where he wants you, that’s where you need to be.”

Mike nodded. It was a strange thing to say. Donna's choice of words was making him more uneasy than usual. “Thanks.” He pocketed the bottle again and stepped towards the door.

“Nice tie, by the way,” Donna remarked. “It looks like one of Harvey’s.”

“You know that it is,” he said, opening the door.

Donna looked at him. “Harvey gave you one of his ties?”

Mike stopped and looked back. “Lent it,” he amended.

“Why?”

Mike looked back and forth between one big, puzzled eye to the other. “Because…” Did he really need to explain this? She already knew. He stood there at the door, frozen, trying to process what Donna was asking him.

Donna glanced down and Mike’s pants, then back up at his face. “That’s Harvey’s suit,” she realized. “I remember that suit. They took it in too far.”

“Yeah…”

“Why are _you_ wearing it?” She sounded strangely distrustful.

Mike was getting annoyed with the questions. He let go of the door and stepped towards her desk so that he could keep his voice low. This was private. “Because I don’t keep a spare suit of my own at Harvey’s place and the clothes I was wearing last night are pretty much totalled.”

Donna’s eyebrows shot up higher than he’d ever seen them go before.

Mike’s heart raced. “Wait, I thought Harvey told you this.” He suddenly felt the urgent need to backtrack but he didn’t know how.

“He told me that you got mugged last night… and that he sent you home with you some money for a locksmith, but you locked yourself out of the building again this morning before you could get a spare key from your landlord.”

“Wow…” It was the detail that got him.

“He lied?” Donna looked confounded and Mike couldn’t help but feel he’d let both her and Harvey down. But how was he supposed to have known that Harvey had given her a fake story?

“He wasn’t completely lying,” Mike compromised, gripping the edge of the partition. “I did get mugged, but I stayed with Harvey last night.” Only now he was wondering why Harvey hadn’t taken 10 minutes to put him in a cab and send a locksmith over. It would have been much simpler than giving him clothes and breakfast and dealing with the aftermath of the completely inappropriate, unfulfilled contact.

“Why would he lie to me about that?” But she began shaking her head half way through the question. “Nope. Nope, don’t tell me.” She turned to her computer and began clicking away at the mouse.

“But that’s all. I just told you.”

“Wait – you’re not _‘David’_ , are you?” She looked up, catching herself in the middle of a thought, and raised a hand. “No, don’t tell me. Jesus, forget I said that.”

“I’m Mike,” he reminded her, feeling a bit lost. He wondered if he’d heard her correctly. “But I met a David last night...”

“Please stop with this information.”

“You just asked! I don’t get it. Why would you think I was _David_? What’s that even supposed to mean?”

“Why did you _meet_ David?”

“He was with Harvey when I went to his apartment.” Mike found himself suddenly looking at the back of Donna’s head. She was turned away from his as much as possible, burying her face in a binder, deciding to ignore him. “You haven’t met him? Why do you know his name? What does he have to do with me?” He walked around to the other side of her desk to make her face him. “Donna.”

Donna sighed and looked up over the binder. “I keep Harvey’s datebook organized. That name comes up every Thursday night. After a while I figured out that he’s not a personal trainer…” She paused and glanced down the hall, clearly debating whether or not to keep going. “I don’t think this is something we can discuss.”

Mike leaned over the partition. “I know they’re involved,” Mike confided discretely, worried that Donna might think she’d given away too much. “Harvey told me.” Mike understood now, and laughed. “You thought ‘David’ was code. For me?”

“It crossed my mind,” she mumbled into the binder.

“Donna, what you’re saying is… it’s… why would that ever cross your mind?” Mike was frantic. His thoughts were rushing by faster than he could grab onto them.

She looked back up at him again. “It was one of many things that crossed my mind, okay? And only just now when I found out that Harvey _lied_ about you spending Thursday night with him—“

“At his apartment,” Mike clarified, just in case anyone was listening.

“That’s the end of this discussion.” Donna slammed the binder closed, making Mike jump. “Not that we ever _had_ this discussion. All I need to know about Harvey is what he tells me. No more or less.”

Mike wanted to keep probing, but he could only nod. He had the feeling that any information about Harvey’s personal life that he chose to disperse to Donna and to Mike was probably two different stories, and between the two of them they could form a clear picture. Apparently, Harvey did not want to be seen clearly.

“I don’t understand,” Donna continued in frustration, despite what she’d just said, stopping Mike in his tracks as he made his way back around the desk. “Why would he lie about this? How did he not expect it to come up at some point?”

“He must have thought I’d know better than to say anything,” Mike realized. “He must have thought I’d be too embarrassed to talk about it.”

Donna gave him a look.

“I mean, I guess not about me staying over, but because of the uh, when… um…”

“Let me stop you.”

“Thank you.” Mike exhaled.

Donna’s phone rang and she answered, holding a finger up to Mike.

“How’s the meeting?” she asked, obviously recognizing the number as Harvey’s. Her eyes darted up to meet Mike’s. “He’s right here.”

Mike took a deep breath and couldn’t understand why he felt himself flushing.

“I’ll tell him.” That was it. Donna hung up and lowered her finger. “Harvey wants me to tell you to stop bothering Donna and get to work.”

Mike rolled his eyes. “He didn’t say when he’d be back?”

“Late.”

Mike nodded and made his way into Harvey’s office as Donna turned back to her computer and started clicking away again. Harvey's office was so big and quiet compared to his usual workspace, he considered putting on a record to fill the air but didn’t want to risk touching anything he wasn’t supposed to. (Not that it had stopped him before.) He dragged the two binders containing Jameson and Templeton’s current corporate leases over to the glass coffee table by the couch and set to work committing the information to memory.

By 7:30 the natural light began to slowly diminish behind the surrounding office buildings and there was still no word from Harvey. He knew that if he stepped out for a meal then Harvey would inevitably arrive while he was gone, because that was how things worked. Despite the distractions of his empty stomach and the sharp pressure in his chest, he continued reading. He’d taken some over-the-counter pain relief tablets which helped a little, but the longer he sat on the couch, hunched over the papers, the more breaks he had to take to stand up or lay down. Eventually, he kicked his feet up on the couch and lay back, determined not to fall asleep reading…

Mike woke to a loud thud. The first thing he saw was a fresh stack of paperwork where it had landed on the glass coffee table, and the second thing he saw was Harvey standing over him with his hands in his pockets. He had the same look on his face as every teacher who had ever caught him helping his classmates cheat in grade school.

“Would you mind taking your shoes off before you put your feet on my couch?”

Mike immediately swung his feet down to the floor in front of him and sat upright, trying to ignore the sting in his chest that came with the sudden shift.

“I’m almost finished,” he mumbled, straightening his tie – _Harvey’s_ tie – as he tried to find his place on the page in a sleepy fog.

“Good,” said Harvey as he walked over to his desk. “Because I need you to look over that addendum to the bylaws and see if you can find any inconsistencies to the original document. Jameson’s approved it, but I want to be sure. At Templeton’s request I’ve made a few modifications for clarity but I want to make sure he’s not trying to sneak anything by us.”

Mike struggled to mentally adjust to Harvey’s pace. “He doesn’t strike me as the sneaky type...” He tried not to watch as Harvey shrugged off his suit jacket and hung it on the back of his chair. Instead, he looked out into the hall and noted that Donna was gone. It seemed quiet. He checked his phone. 9:00. He thought he had hardly slept for a blink, but he’d been out for over an hour. There were still no doubt a couple of associates finishing up for the week, but being that it was a Friday night and there were no major crises to his knowledge, the key players and their secretaries had gone home.

“By the way…” Harvey rose, picking up his laptop and an envelope from his desk. He walked over to the coffee table carrying both, and handed the envelope to Mike. “Your superintendent is not a responsible man. It was a little too easy to get this key, especially considering that his own tenant couldn’t reach him when he needed it.”

Mike took the envelope. “I can’t believe you got this. My super lives off-site and he never answers his phone.”

“Why don’t you move?” Harvey sat down on the chair next to the couch and put his laptop on the table.

Mike shrugged. “It’s the first place I’ve lived that feels like home.” He tore open the envelope and slid out the newly cut key. He put it in his pocket. “Thank you.”

“There was a $150 replacement fee.”

“I’ll pay you back on Monday.” He had begun the day with far more cash than he’d come away with, after his trip to the pharmacy and buying a new phone. He wanted to make sure he could get through the weekend while his bank was closed.

“Order something to eat and we’ll call it even.”

= **=** =

Mike broke in his new phone by ordering from the Gobo delivery menu that Harvey had supplied him. He chose a few dishes that he could actually visualize in his head, and picked up the food in the lobby 45 minutes later. On his way back up to Harvey’s office, he took a walk around and found the place to be completely deserted. Any other time and he would have loved having the floor to himself. He and Harvey had managed so far to carry on business-as-usual, but that didn’t mean he could shake the memory of how the man had felt and tasted and smelled the night before when he had him pushed up against the wall. He couldn’t forget how Harvey had _needed_ him. Mike’s body remembered it more vividly than his mind did, which was unusual for him. Knowing they were alone made it even worse. He congratulated himself on his outward professionalism, but quietly wondered if Harvey was thinking about him at all.

They both ate the meal in silence. It wasn’t what Mike would normally order for himself but the food was fresh and satisfying, and as long as he kept eating, he wouldn’t say anything stupid. When he finished his meal, he reached into his pocket for the over-the-counter pain medication and popped open the bottle, pausing when he felt Harvey’s eyes on him.

“It’s just ibuprofen,” he explained.

“Donna said they wrote you a prescription.”

So he’d been speaking to Donna. He wondered how much she’d mentioned to him. Mike put two pills on his tongue and washed them back with lemon seltzer. Then he pulled out the other, smaller bottle and put it on the table next to the first. “I haven’t taken any.”

“Why not? You fell asleep anyway, it’s not as if your concentration could have been any more compromised.”

“I didn’t know I was going to fall asleep,” Mike protested, embarrassed. He tried not to remind Harvey that he hadn’t slept well the night before. Neither of them had. Perhaps Harvey never did.

Mike began picking up the empty food containers from the table, clearing away the space so that they could continue working, uncluttered. He dropped the garbage in Harvey’s waste bin on the other side of the room, only because he knew that the cleaning staff would empty it over the weekend.

“Take it if you need it. Maybe you don’t.” Harvey opened up his laptop again now that the table was clear, save for their two drinks and the mess of papers. “Donna told me that you only bruised a rib.”

“It’s a _contusion_ and it feels almost exactly like a fracture,” Mike said in his defense, carefully settling onto the couch again. It wasn’t as if he wanted sympathy, but a part of him did want Harvey to know how well he could handle the injury and push through the pain. Harvey had seen him weak the night before, and he wanted to be strong and efficient now. The pain actually wasn’t that bad as long as he continued swallowing ibuprofen and didn’t sit too still for too long. He picked up the addendum to the new bylaws and tried to find where he’d left off.

“And other than that. How are you feeling?” Harvey remained entirely focused on his computer screen.

Mike tried to understand the question. “Other than what?”

“The ribs.” Harvey was simultaneously speaking and typing into his laptop, which was a skill that even Mike didn’t possess, assuming that Harvey wasn’t transcribing their conversation. “You got the shit kicked out of you last night. So what about the rest of you? Anything broken?”

For a moment, Mike had foolishly thought that when Harvey asked how he was feeling, he was actually referring to his _feelings_. And suddenly he found himself so distracted by the fact that Harvey had been the first one to bring up the words  " _last night"_ since last night had happened, he almost forgot to answer the question.

“No, nothing’s broken. Just bruised. Other than the ribs it’s all superficial.” He turned his attention back to the papers in his hand, or at least pretended to. It was becoming increasingly difficult to focus. Harvey’s chair was positioned so close to him that Mike had to discretely shift down on the couch to gain a manageable distance.

After about a minute, Harvey gave a short laugh. “I can’t believe you chased that guy.” He was shaking his head, still typing.

Mike slowly allowed a nervous grin to play at the corner of his mouth. “I know. Pretty stupid, right?”

“It’s one of the reasons I hired you. You’re not a push-over.” Harvey looked up at him for the second time since sitting down at the table over an hour before. His dark eyes were so calm, squinted just a little in amusement. That was something about Harvey that Mike grown to love early on: he smiled with his eyes. So few people did.

Unexpectedly overwhelmed by a feeling he couldn’t quite calculate, Mike tried to keep breathing. He was uncertain if he was being affected by the strange compliment or the simple look. He hoped that Harvey couldn’t tell what was going on inside him, but at the same time, wished he already knew. Harvey had always been good at reading people.

“Yeah, well uh…” Mike cleared his throat. He picked up his bottle of seltzer to take a drink but it was already empty, so he put it back down. “When someone holds a gun to your head—“

“You do realize that I never meant that literally, don’t you?”

Mike shrugged and leaned back into the couch. “I guess I learned the hard way.”

“You always do.” Harvey shot him a quick smirk and turned back to his laptop.

Mike’s face was burning. Harvey wasn’t just treating him normally, as if nothing had happened – he was being more friendly with him than usual. A part of him wished that Harvey would just give him the cold shoulder, even though he understood that Harvey was doing this deliberately, for his benefit. As usual, he was taking all of the responsibility upon himself and didn’t want Mike to feel like he was in trouble. In a way his method was effective, because Mike didn’t feel guilty. But maybe a _little_ guilt would have helped him to lose the courage he was gaining, which he had no realistic outlet for.

Mike discretely toed off his shoes and slid his legs up onto the couch, waiting for an objection from Harvey but didn’t hear it. He lay back on the couch the way he had done before he’d fallen asleep, only now it was because he didn’t want Harvey in his eye line. If he didn’t concentrate he’d never get through the bylaws.

The next half hour was silent other than the tapping of the keyboard and flipping of pages. Mike finally achieved that zen-like state of information absorption and didn’t snap out of it until he came across a clause that didn’t quite read right in his head. He wasn’t sure if it was poor wording or if he simply didn’t understand it. He tilted his head back, looking over the arm rest, and lifted the sheet of paper to catch Harvey’s attention.

“Was this a mistake or did you do it on purpose?” He pointed to the sentence in question.

Harvey took the paper and read it carefully. “I did that on purpose,” he lied. “But if you wanted to put your own spin on it… that would be alright.” He handed the paper back to Mike.

Harvey always had a unique approach to admitting his mistakes.

Mike felt around the couch for his pen to make the correction, but couldn’t find it. He only noticed that it was on the coffee table nearly a minute later when he saw Harvey reach across to pick it up and then stood, leaning over Mike’s head, bracing himself on the back of the couch with one hand and dangling the pen above Mike’s face in the other.

“Focus,” he told him sternly, meeting his eyes upside-down in Mike’s vision.

Mike reached up and took the pen, but he couldn’t focus, and he couldn’t tear his eyes away from Harvey’s. His brain was screaming at him to listen to Harvey, because he was trying to make it easy for both of them to move on and forget. His body wouldn’t listen. Before Harvey could move away again, Mike dropped the pen and reached up to catch the back of his neck. Had there been any resistance, he would have let go, but there was none. He dug his fingers into that perfect hair and pulled him in.

Of all the things running through his head at that moment, the thought that occurred to him first was that he’d never kissed anyone upside down before. This was nothing like the last time. It came on even more quickly. The tip of Harvey’s tongue was pressing between Mike’s lips almost instantly, and he tipped his head back further to draw him in. They both moaned as their tongues slid together and Mike squeezed his eyes shut tight, devouring Harvey’s mouth and being devoured all at once. A wave of relief moved through his body at the acceptance that Harvey was giving him, responding with equal force and hunger. That relief heated and boiled over into lust within seconds. His ribs and neck ached from the position he was in, but he didn’t care. He wouldn’t break away for anything.

Mike sucked Harvey’s lower lip into his mouth when he felt a sure hand move down his stomach and impatiently un-tuck the shirt from his pants, lifting it a few inches. Fingers ran across his exposed belly for a moment, making his toes curl in anticipation, before they moved down again to his belt, working quickly. It was Harvey’s belt, after all, and was familiar to his hands. He barely heard the zip of the fly over their heavy breathing and groaned hard into Harvey’s mouth when a hand slid over his underwear with a confident grip.

Although Mike’s hands were free this time, Harvey was behind him and he still couldn’t reach his body, as much as he wanted to. He lifted his other hand to Harvey’s face and drove his tongue inside his mouth again, unwilling to let him go. He could feel the muscles in Harvey’s jaw shifting beneath his fingers as he sucked on his tongue. The hand between Mike’s legs was moving in the same deep, wild rhythm as his mouth. With nobody to wrap his legs around, Mike’s heels slid against the couch, desperately trying to push himself up closer to Harvey, thrusting his hips up against the hand. It wasn’t long before he was completely, achingly hard. He wanted to feel Harvey’s bare palm against his skin. He wanted everything, and he finally felt it was all within reach. Even if Harvey was behind him.

Mike slowed his breathing a little when he thought he heard a strange, static hum in the distance. Harvey didn’t seem to notice, but Mike gave a fraction of his concentration to the noise, which seemed to be growing louder. With his head still tilted back, he opened his eyes and looked up to see the fuzzy impression of Harvey’s suit and the empty hallway outside the office. The noise got louder and suddenly Harvey paused, too, hearing the same thing.

Mike blinked when he saw a vacuum cleaner creep into his vision in the hallway. Thankfully, Harvey seemed to recognize the sound at that moment and pulled away before Mike had to push him. Harvey slipped his hand out of Mike’s pants and landed in his chair again, just as the janitor came into view. Mike collapsed onto the couch and remained there, motionless, his hand pressed to his burning forehead. His heart was racing, groin throbbing, head spinning. It was too late to fix his clothing when he finally looked down and noticed that his belt buckle and pants were pulled wide open, revealing the bulge in his underwear. He closed his eyes and waited to hear the sound of the vacuum fade. Eventually, it did, after an excruciating minute and a half.

He didn’t know what to do with the silence when it came. He fantasized that Harvey would climb on top of him without another word, but he knew that the moment had come and gone, as much as Mike was personally willing to try to reclaim it. He reached down and did up his pants, chewing his lower lip. When he couldn’t take the silence any longer, he sat up carefully, minding his tender ribs, and he looked at Harvey.

Harvey was sitting back in his chair with a strange, blank expression. His cheeks were reddened and his lips were still wet. He’d never seen anyone look freshly fucked and freshly pressed at the same time. There were a lot of things that Mike was itching to say, but he chose to let Harvey speak first.

“You can go home now.”

“ _Why_ ,” Mike breathed in defeat, his entire body deflating. It was exactly what he’d expected to hear, but it wasn’t what he wanted. Why was it always so easy for Harvey to cast him off?

“You’ve done enough here.” He was speaking in a casual, simple tone, but the resisted strain behind his words was audible.

Mike hesitated before he said: “No.”

Harvey’s expression was still blank. He blinked at Mike. “Excuse me?”

“No,” he repeated. The first one had been easier, but he was standing his ground. He didn’t even care if Harvey could see how nervous he was. He wasn’t interested in being anything but authentic now. It had gone too far.

Harvey cocked his head to the side and stared at Mike. “Do you want me to throw you out?” His voice was becoming more stern and honest. That’s what Mike wanted – an honest response.

He thought about the question candidly for a few seconds before responding: “Yes.” Throwing him out meant touching him, and he didn’t think Harvey was prepared to do it. Whatever happened, Mike was sick of pretending that everything was normal. Harvey had him halfway to one of the strangest orgasms of his life only minutes ago and he couldn’t act like he wasn’t affected by it.

It startled him when Harvey quickly rose and grabbed him by the shoulders, roughly hauling him to his feet. His breath hitched with the sharp pain it brought to his chest. Harvey’s grip was painfully firm and unexpected, and Mike couldn’t distinguish between his own shock and arousal. His nerves were a mess and his brain was numb. One hand released a shoulder and locked onto the side of his face, fingertips digging into his skull. Mike clenched his jaw, ready to be either hit or eaten alive – ready for anything. Harvey only held him there for a moment before he pushed his face away and released him.

Mike stumbled over his shoes and bent to put them back on. He watched Harvey pick up his lap top and bring it back to his desk. He shut down the computer and slipped back into his suit jacket. Clearly, if he couldn’t get rid of Mike, then he would leave instead.

“Shouldn’t we talk about this?” It was a dead-end question but he had to say something. They had to acknowledge that there was something going on between them.

“No.”

“Why?”

“Don’t make this difficult.” Harvey moved for the door but Mike stepped in front of him. “What did I just say?”

“Tell me what you want,” Mike demanded.

“That’s not what I said.” Harvey tried to step around him again but Mike pressed a hand to his chest, which stopped him more easily than he’d expected.

“Just tell me what you want. Tell me what you fucking want!” He closed his fingers around Harvey’s tie but Harvey shoved his hand away, as if he had only at that moment remembered to be bothered by the contact.

“We both know that what we think we want and what we ultimately need are two different things.”

“I don’t know that,” Mike denied. Ultimately, he needed Harvey to fuck his brains out. Harvey seemed to need the same thing, given that his body relentlessly contradicted his words.

Harvey stuck his hands into his pockets. Mike assumed it was to keep himself from using force. “You know, there was a moment – just a _moment_ – when I thought that we could get away with this. Crazy, I know. I thought that I might not have to worry about sharing my private life with someone I work with because I was beginning to consider you a friend, Mike, I really was. But then you go ahead and run your mouth off to Donna—“

“What the hell? She recognized your damn suit. She was asking me questions—“

“Which should have told you that she didn’t have all of the information.”

“She still doesn’t. You lied to her. I didn’t know that, so I was honest. And I never said anything about you pinning me up against the wall of your kitchen, so I don’t see the problem.”

Harvey’s expression changed and he seemed to become uncomfortable when Mike started getting specific. He walked across the room to the window. Mike stayed where he was.

“I can’t believe Donna told you about that,” Mike admitted, running his fingers through his hair. She was the one who wanted to pretend the conversation had never happened. Mike felt like he was the only one who didn’t want to play the pretending game.

“She didn’t,” Harvey said, leaning back against the window sill. He crossed his arms. “I guessed. You confirmed.”

Mike scoffed, but he wasn’t surprised.

Harvey held Mike’s gaze for a few seconds before he dropped it with a shake of his head. “It doesn’t matter anyway.”

Mike laughed. “Why? Because you’re ‘ _not gay’_?”

Harvey glanced up at him with an arched brow. He looked like he had something to say but he couldn't get it out.

Mike was on the brink of resentment, but Harvey was making the effort to talk, just like Mike had asked him to. It was clear that he was grappling with his sexuality, which Mike didn’t want to blame him for and probably shouldn’t have gotten himself into the middle of.

“For the record, I don’t care _what_ you are.” Mike conjured up some more honesty. “I know _who_ you are. Regardless of what you say or who you fuck or who you don’t, I know you, Harvey. Whether you like it or not.”

“Mhm.” Harvey seemed to consider this a moment, nodding. “I know you, too, Mike. I know you’re prone to unhealthy, abusive relationships.”

Mike’s blood heated a degree, but he didn’t deny it.

“I know you’ve got no family, no friends –“

 “That’s not true–“

“—And frankly you’re career as a lawyer depends almost entirely on me. You’re trying to put all your eggs in one basket. That’s not smart.”

“I’m not trying to be smart.” Harvey was right about putting his eggs in one basket. Mike’s world revolved around Harvey, but he didn’t care to change that.

“I know it’s a lot to ask from a goddamn genius, but make an effort. Listen: I’m unreliable. I change my mind. You think you know me? You should know _that_ about me. The only thing I know I won’t change my mind about is that I’m going to be at Pearson Hardman until they force me to retire. That’s the long haul. Are you going anywhere?”

“I wasn’t planning on it.”

“So if we’re going to spend our lives in a working relationship, it doesn’t make sense to get involved in any other capacity, because it won’t last, and when it inevitably crashes it’s going to take its toll on our work. Jesus, Mike, this is me trying to look out for you! You don’t even like me, why on earth would you want to screw around with me?”

“Because I… you…” Harvey was throwing a lot at him and suddenly he wasn’t the one with the answers. He didn’t always agree with Harvey, but that didn’t mean he didn’t like him.

“Look, I tried to be a friend to you and I just, I let it go too far. I thought I had it under control and I slipped –“

“Twice,” Mike interjected.

“I take full responsibility. But you have got to let it go.”

“Actually, we’re both responsible. And if you’re not interested in me, then you can just tell me, I can handle that. It’s fine. It’s just that I’m detecting some mixed signals, especially when your tongue is in my mouth.”

“Don’t do that. Fuck it -- you know I’m interested in you. You’re interesting. You just might be more intelligent than I am and I like the way you look. The way…” He stopped himself. “But you’re not a part of my plan.”

“What _plan_?”

“My plan. My life. My image, which you obviously don’t understand anything about. Of course you don’t. You never had a plan. You still don’t.”

Mike could barely respond. “You think a string of one night stands and upper class escorts does anything for your _image_? What the hell is wrong with you?”

“What’s _wrong_ with me is that I’ve modeled my life around something I don’t even know that I want anymore,” Harvey confessed out of exhaustion. “Of course I want the money and the cars and the… but it’s all a part of a _package_.”

Money, cars, women. James Bond didn’t have a boyfriend. Mike could piece it together. He swallowed his words of rationality and did his best to listen to what might have been a mid-life crisis unravelling before his eyes.

“And then… _you_!” Harvey waved his arm in Mike’s direction. “You got under my skin like a goddamn parasite the day I hired you. Do you have any idea what it’s like to spend your entire life believing that your purpose, your future, your happiness looked a very _specific_ way, working towards it with every single choice you’ve ever made… and then you realize that your future might look completely different, you don’t want the things you thought you did and suddenly, you just can’t visualize your life. Or yourself. You have to rethink everything. And I _can’t_ , Mike, I have worked too long and too hard to reframe who I am just to accommodate you. It’s so trivial, and it’s a pain in the ass. I don’t need this, and neither do you. Just get the fuck out of here, I don’t want to look at you anymore.” Harvey sat back on the window sill and buried his face in his hand.

 _Then you don’t have to. I quit._ Mike’s emotional reflexes told him to say it, but he wouldn’t give in. Abandoning the latter of his fight-or-flight instincts, before he knew it, his feet were taking him straight towards Harvey, who dropped his hands but hardly acknowledged Mike. He watched his arm swing and, expecting to feel his fist make contact with Harvey’s face, he surprised both of them when he locked his arm around Harvey’s shoulders and pulled him in. He didn’t know what told him to do it, but his instincts were confirmed when Harvey drew him in with an equally unexpected and urgent embrace. Fingertips dug into the back of his scalp and a strong arm wrapped around his waist. They stood there at the window, clinging to each other with white-knuckled desperation, faces buried in one another’s shoulders. There was nothing nurturing or erotic about it. Mike didn’t have the time to wait for Harvey to ask for forgiveness. He just had to give it to him.

Mike didn’t linger. He was already pushing it. He stepped out of the embrace and kept his eyes on the floor as he walked out of Harvey’s office without another word.

 

= **=** =

Being that it was a Friday night and it was beginning to rain, the few cabs passing by the office building were occupied. After several minutes, Mike was about to opt for the subway (annoyed that his MetroCard was gone), but the sound of footsteps on wet pavement stopped him.  

“Do you need a ride?” Harvey was safe distance behind Mike when he spoke.

“You don’t have a car.” Mike chewed his lip and made an attempt to hail a cab approaching, but it made a turn. It was at that moment that a black car pulled around the same corner and glided up to the curb. It wasn’t Ray, or Mike’s driver from earlier in the afternoon, but it was the same car service that Pearson Hardman always used. Harvey must have had them on speed dial.

“Just get in, okay?” Harvey brushed by Mike and let himself into the back seat of the car, shutting the door behind him.

With a deep sigh, Mike went around the other side of the car and did the same. Closing the door behind him, confining the two of them in the small space, his pulse quickened but he didn’t say anything.

“Evening, Mr. Specter,” the driver greeted pleasantly. “Headed home for the night?”

Mike would go wherever Harvey wanted to take him. So when Harvey looked over at him with an answer on the tip of his tongue, Mike nodded.

Harvey reminded the driver of his address and sank comfortably back into the seat as the car pulled out.

“Your clothes are still at my place,” Harvey mentioned, as if he needed to get some casual reason out of the way for bringing Mike back into his home. “And my clothes are still on you,” he added. “I’d like them back.”

“Sure,” Mike agreed absently. “We’ll trade.”

In the same way that Mike had nervously considered that Harvey had been joking about David the night before, he considered now that perhaps Harvey really would just make him swap clothes and send him home. Even though he knew why he was going with Harvey, the sudden onset of nervousness was chipping away at his confidence.

As if Harvey knew what he was thinking, he slipped his hand inside Mike’s upper thigh. Mike reflexively opened his leg towards Harvey, accepting the touch. He kept his eyes on the city outside the window. It occurred to him that he needed to address something that Harvey had said to him upstairs before the speech was too far in the past.

“You know, the day you hired me… I picked up my phone and I almost called my mom. To tell her. I thought she’d be so proud of me. She and my dad have been dead for almost 20 years.” He usually dreaded speaking about his parents because, even after all that time, it made him emotional. Now, somehow, he felt steady and calm. “I’m not comparing our lives or anything, but I’m just telling you this because I _do_ know what it’s like. To have to change the way you see your future and re-evaluate what you _thought_ mattered to you and what really does. I’ve spent most of my life working on it. I just mean to say that I might have more practice than you do. So maybe I underestimated what an unfair position I’ve put you in.”

Harvey said nothing but the briefest: “Hm,” acknowledging that he’d heard Mike, which was the only response Mike needed.

Between the time they got out of the car to the time they arrived at Harvey’s apartment, Mike had to force himself not to use his brain at all. There were times when any thinking would be overthinking, and this was one of those times. Harvey seemed like he was back to his cool, confident self as he led them to his private elevator, which Mike was grateful for. He didn’t want to be a part of anything that Harvey might regret later. Perhaps simply hearing himself vent had helped, as it wasn’t likely Harvey had ever openly admitted to second guessing his life plan before.

Mike followed Harvey out of the elevator. The room was dark, illuminated only by one table lamp that Mike had forgotten to turn out the night before.

“They’re right where you left them,” Harvey said, nodding towards the lump of clothes at the foot of the couch.

Mike moved to collect his clothing, a little surprised that Harvey actually brought it up. Harvey stepped in front of him and looked him over.

“I’ll take my suit back first,” he said, sounding very sure of himself. His eyes dug deep into Mike’s.

Mike swallowed and unbuttoned his jacket. When he shrugged it off he wasn’t sure what to do with it next so, as requested, he handed it to Harvey, not even thinking to take the time to empty his belongings from his pockets.

Harvey took the jacket only to toss it on the floor. His hands moved quickly to the tie around Mike’s neck, stepping in to meet his lips.

This time, it was not a surprise to either of them when they kissed. Mike melted under the now-familiar taste and feeling of Harvey’s mouth. Harvey only broke away for a moment to slip the tie he’d loosened over Mike’s head, and when he brought him back in, Mike realized that his hands and arms finally had the freedom to explore the body so eager to meet his. He closed his eyes and dizzily ran his hands across Harvey’s strong back. He brought his fingers back across Harvey’s chest and impatiently undid the buttons to his jacket, slipping it over his shoulders with ease and letting it drop to the ground beside the other. Harvey was already working on the buttons of Mike’s shirt, parting his lips to look down momentarily when he fumbled. As soon as Mike stole another kiss, Harvey abandoned the shirt buttons and wrapped him in the safety of his arms again, cradling the back of his head with a steady hand. That hand slipped around to his cheek and pulled him back again just an inch. In his eyes, Mike saw nothing other than desire and approval.

“No more interruptions,” Harvey promised with that trademark confidence nobody could ever doubt.

Mike nodded quickly, wanting so badly to believe it that he almost did, and finished unbuttoning his own shirt. Harvey was opening it as Mike began to work on Harvey’s vest. He’d never had to peel back more than a sweater or a t-shirt and maybe a bra to reveal a bare chest, but of course, Harvey was different in every way. In the time that it had taken him to undo Harvey’s vest, Mike was already bare from the waist up and his belt was slipping from its buckle. Then, with a jerk, Harvey tugged at each end of the belt and Mike’s hips crashed into Harvey’s. The belt was tight around him and gave him no choice but to follow Harvey as he stepped backwards, leading Mike by the hips until they both collapsed onto the couch. Mike found himself on top of Harvey and settled onto his lap, straddling him.

A warm mouth on his nipple sent a lick of electricity straight to his core. The sensory overload of the growing bulge in Harvey’s pants underneath him and the eager teeth against his skin forced him to squeeze his eyes shut. It had been a long time since he’d been intimate with someone he wasn’t indifferent about. He had a feeling the same went for Harvey, whose hands were solid but gentle against his back, holding Mike steady as he tasted him with that smooth, yet sharp mouth.

Mike opened his eyes when Harvey ran his hands down to the loosened belt again, and the lips and teeth disappeared from his chest. He found Harvey carefully regarding the purple bruises and scrapes wrapping nearly one half of his ribcage. One hand left the belt to carefully touch his tender skin. Mike bit his lip, a little uncomfortable that his body had to serve as a reminder of his failed attempt to fight off his attacker.

Harvey looked up at Mike, his fingers pressing very gently against him. “Does that hurt?”

“Not really,” Mike said. It hurt, but he didn’t want to discourage Harvey. The extra strength ibuprofen he’d taken with dinner was still holding up to the best of its ability, and he had he had been distracted from the pain before Harvey drew attention to his injury. Even though Harvey was touching him somewhere sore, every moment of contact was a thrill in itself.

“What did the doctor say about sex?” Harvey slipped the belt from Mike’s waist and folded it into one hand, unbuttoning Mike’s fly with the other. “Are you allowed to fuck?”

Mike felt himself flush red. Harvey’s rich voice made the bold words he was using almost agonizing to hear. His inquisitive, grinning eyes (despite his terse lips) would be burned forever into his memory in that moment. The fact that he was still gripping the belt in his hand turned Mike on unbearably for reasons he couldn’t confirm, though he knew Harvey well enough now to make an educated assumption.

“He didn’t explicitly say that it’s okay for me to fuck,” Mike admitted.

“Well if I can’t fuck you _explicitly_ , I’m not sure I want to do it.” Harvey unzipped Mike’s fly in contradiction to his own frivolous words.

Mike bit down on his lip to hold back what felt like a scream boiling up inside of him. “But he didn’t say that I couldn’t,” he quickly offered. “Just no heavy breathing… no bending over… no stretching… no… god, yes…” Mike lost his train of thought when Harvey sank his tongue into the dip at the base of his throat, and dragged the tip of his tongue up to Mike’s chin.

“If you hurt, say something,” Harvey demanded once they were nose to nose. “I won’t stop,” he wickedly confessed, much to Mike’s relief and excitement, “but I’ll listen. Got it?”

Mike ran his fingers through Harvey’s hair, barely able to comprehend how he was getting away with loosening the perfectly structured locks. “Just as long as you don’t stop.” He hooked his thumbs underneath the hinge of Harvey’s jaw and tipped his head back, claiming his throat. The vibrations of Harvey’s low moans tickled his lips. The way Mike felt hearing Harvey’s soft groans and sighs reminded him how rewarding it felt to please Harvey. It was important to him, and a point of pride. He moved his lips from one side of Harvey’s neck to the other, hands returning to finally get rid of his vest and shirt, aching for the warmth of Harvey’s chest against his own.

Harvey sat up straighter to allow Mike to pull the vest down his arms and drop it on the floor. In the same motion, just as Mike had predicted, Harvey took his wrists and pulled them behind his back. Not a moment later, the belt replaced his hands. Mike didn’t fight it and never stopped pressing his lips and tongue to Harvey’s throat and neck as the stiff material tightened behind him. He’d let Harvey have his fun. He’d let Harvey have anything he wanted.

“What do you want me to do?” Mike barely recognized his own words, not even having processed the thought in his mind before voicing it. He sat back and looked down at Harvey, whose expression had been almost completely transformed by absolute lust. His chest rose and fell with deep, long breaths. Mike wanted to take Harvey’s shirt off but he couldn’t do it with his hands tied, although he wouldn’t be surprised if that was precisely what Harvey wanted him to do anyway. And he would figure it out. Such was the nature of their relationship.

“Try not to get my couch wet,” Harvey finally answered.

Mike began to consider the response, thinking back to what he’d said about the ice the night before. Harvey provided some clarity when he slipped his fingers into the slackened waistband of his pants and underwear and began to slide them down. Mike instinctively sat up higher, lifting his hips away from Harvey’s. With shaky legs, he tried to pull his knees together while rolling back and planting the balls of feet on either side of Harvey. It only took a few seconds for the pants and underwear to bunch at his ankles. He settled his weight back onto Harvey’s hips, feeling even more exposed against the fully clothed body. It almost made him feel like a stripper being naked in a rich guy’s lap, but money had never been further from his mind.

Harvey wasted no time once Mike was exposed. He took his swollen cock into his palm and squeezed, eliciting a shaken gasp from Mike’s lips. He wet his thumb at the tip, then two fingertips joined the thumb to spread Mike’s pre-come across the head and eventually down his whole shaft. The touch began light, with his fingertips occasionally brushing his thigh and his balls, making his groin twitch and tighten.

Mike felt that all he could do was grapple for oxygen, gasping with every stroke until his chest was full. It wasn’t until Harvey’s hand tightened around him again and pumped his slick shaft that he finally exhaled with a heartfelt groan. The head rush that momentarily stole his vision him made him realize how long he’d been holding the same breath in his lungs. Harvey didn’t give him an opportunity to collect himself, continuing to twist and slide his hand. Dizzy, attempting to ensure that he wouldn’t fall backwards, Mike collapsed into Harvey’s chest and pressed his forehead to a shoulder, blinking wildly until he regained his temporarily obscured sight. His nerves felt hot and alive.

Perhaps because he had made no attempt to strain at the secure bond, Harvey’s trusting hand slid confidently away from the belt down to his ass, squeezing enthusiastically before coming around to his front and tucking down between their bodies to cup his balls. With two eager hands at work between his thighs, Mike could feel himself drawing closer and closer to a climax that he would rather have put off. The wet sound of Harvey’s hand against his skin, slick with his own fluids, and their loud, indistinguishable breaths only amplified his need for release.

While the sensation in his belly and groin coiled even more tightly than he thought possible, a small pang of regret prodded at his chest. He knew that there was absolutely no turning away from his impending climax, but ached to feel himself stretched around Harvey as it happened, completely wrapped around him in every possible way. Despite himself, he rocked into Harvey’s fist, his quick and uneven breaths making his head light and his body heavy while Harvey’s chest continued to rise slow and steady.

“ _That’s right,_ ” Harvey whispered, stroking Mike’s hair slowly with his left hand, pumping faster and harder between his legs with his right, only one goal in mind.

Mike bit down on his lip hard, the smallest words of encouragement pounding at his heart as an icy sweat began to emerge across his skin. With his forehead still plastered against Harvey’s shoulder, he wasn’t worried about being caught with a dampness beading at the corners of his tightly clasped eyelashes. He could feel Harvey’s erection straining against his pants and he couldn’t understand why he didn’t have the luxury of flesh on flesh. Mike wanted to beg Harvey to wait and to let him come while he was buried inside him, but when he opened his mouth all that passed his lips was a guttural sob, followed by another and another until he couldn’t hold back any longer and his cries of frustration wove seamlessly into a rolling wave of release.

Mike knew he was spilling out onto Harvey’s shirt but he didn’t care. He pressed his face into his neck and let it happen, dizzy, vaguely aware of warm lips moving against his shoulder as every ounce of carnal tension drained from his body. As Harvey’s hand slowed, so did Mike’s rocking hips, until finally all that remained in Mike’s sphere of awareness was his aching, bruised ribcage trapped between two quietly pounding hearts.

The belt around Mike’s wrists went slack when Harvey undid the buckle. Without a thought, Mike shook it loose and brought his hands to Harvey’s face to guide him into a long, deep kiss. He dipped his lazy tongue into Harvey’s mouth and felt him return the gesture. When they parted, Mike looked down at the damp spot on Harvey’s shirt. He hoped it wouldn’t stain, but then he figured that’s where vests came in handy. He knew it was sick to imagine Harvey at work with a freshly-pressed, come-stained shirt underneath his vest and jacket, but he still had to work to keep his lips from twitching at the thought.

Harvey’s hand tapped lightly against Mike’s thigh. “Get up.”

Mike’s shoes were still tangled in his pants and underwear, so he shifted off Harvey’s lap to sit on the couch next to him rather than try to stand. He leaned over to grip the fabric around his ankles, but he stopped himself from pulling them back on.

“We don’t have to stop,” Mike said softly, elbows resting on his knees.

“Did I say we were stopping?”

Mike looked up at Harvey, who seemed deeply sated despite the untended bulge in his pants.

Harvey reached down and grabbed a handful of the fabric between Mike’s ankles. He pulled up, causing Mike to fall back onto the couch as his legs landed across Harvey’s lap. He watched him strip off the shoes, pants (which he wiped his hand clean on), socks and underwear. It all ended up on the floor with their other clothes. When he was fully nude, Mike caught Harvey staring at his face, of all things.

“What?”

“You’ve never really seen your eyes, have you.” Harvey brushed aside Mike’s legs and stood up before he had a chance to respond. “Let’s go.”

Mike followed, trying to ignore the pinch in his chest and weakness in his legs as he did so. Harvey pulled him into his body, kissing his bruised temple. Hands slid down his back to squeeze his ass, then a wayward finger ran up the naked cleft. Harvey stroked him there as he stepped backwards, pulling Mike across the room with him. Mike’s legs shook when he felt Harvey’s fingertip press against his opening.

“You can’t expect me to walk while you do that.” Mike planted his feet as the finger rubbed firmly between his legs, with the other hand rhythmically squeezing the taut flesh of his ass.

“You can multi-task,” Harvey advised, unable and unwilling to hold off until they found a bed.

Mike drove his hand down the front of Harvey’s pants, which was the only way he knew how to respond.  Harvey moaned and stopped in his tracks.

“Distracting, isn’t it?” Mike savoured the warm, twitching flesh in his hand. He held him but did nothing more.

Mike lost his grip when Harvey’s hands moved from his ass to his hips and turned him around to find that they were standing at the base of a set of narrow, modern stairs. He fell forward with the firm nudge of Harvey’s hips behind him and braced his hands against the edge of a step. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Harvey’s foot land a few steps behind him and heard the zip of his fly. Mike sucked his bruised lower lip into his mouth and waited. Harvey was gripping his hip bone with one strong hand, keeping him in place as he felt the head of his stiff, damp cock swipe down the centre of his ass.  

“ _Fuck_ ,” Mike breathed with a shiver. His blood began to heat and spark again, rushing back to his groin. He pushed back against Harvey, who backed away so as not to allow the contact to deepen. Despite his apparent reluctance, Harvey nudged Mike’s legs apart with his knee. Mike eagerly obliged, still weak from his orgasm but increasingly aroused by Harvey’s impatience. He reached back for Harvey’s thigh, grasping at the air, unable to find a body part to hold onto. Finally he felt a hand on his thigh and covered it with his own. A knee replaced the foot on the step in his periphery and a few moments later, he felt a hot tongue slide between his buttocks.

“God dammit!” Mike curled his fingers against the edge step. His cock pulsed with the arousal that he was quickly regaining at the shock of Harvey’s soft tongue thoroughly wetting his cleft.

Where Harvey seemed to have more physical than emotional experience with men, Mike was the opposite – he knew where he stood in terms of his sexuality, but hadn’t found many opportunities to act on his instincts. When he had slept with men, usually it wasn’t _his_ ass getting all the attention. He’d only been rimmed and fucked a small handful of times when he was a student. Harvey was doing what was normally Mike’s job in these circumstances, but with him, he couldn’t imagine it any other way. He just hoped that the newness of it was not too evident to the other man.

Mike bit down on a moan as Harvey’s fingers ventured around him to stroke his cock. The tongue behind him disappeared.

“That was fast,” Harvey commented with a squeeze. It was a familiar remark inside the office, and as usual, there was admiration in his voice.

Mike dropped his head against his forearm, sinking further down onto the staircase. “You know me,” he mumbled.

Using all his willpower, Mike pulled out of Harvey’s grasp and turned around. He sat back a few steps up and stretched out an arm for Harvey, who walked up into his reach. Mike wrapped a hand around his thigh and pressed a kiss to his lower abdomen. Harvey’s cock leapt against his cheek. He caught it with his free hand and sank him into his mouth.

Harvey groaned, deep and loud. His hands grasped at the banister and Mike’s hair, his breath quickly becoming erratic. Mike loved that he was able to strip him of control. The hand at the back of his head encouraged him to continue, so he did. Harvey was large, silky and well-groomed. Mike expected no less. He poured himself into pleasing Harvey with both hands and his mouth, his own cock leaking just as much as the one on his tongue. He couldn’t help glancing up to Harvey’s face. His head was tilted back, jaw slack, eyes closed. Mike flicked his tongue under the smooth head, rewarded with the sight of white teeth raking over a lower lip and a satisfied moan. He offered Harvey one last drag of his wet tongue from base to tip before Harvey opened his eyes and stroked Mike’s flushed cheek with the back of his hand. He swiped his thumb across his slick, bruised lips, painted with Harvey’s pre-come.

“Go on,” Harvey said, his voice rough. “I’m not going to fuck you on the stairs like a damn circus clown.”

“I guess it’s been a while since I’ve gone to the circus.”

Harvey shot him an amused look and modestly tucked himself back into his pants. He took Mike’s arm, pulling him to his feet. Mike followed Harvey to the upper loft, noticing that there was one more glass vessel for the elevator. 

“Why didn’t we take that?” Mike asked. They had been standing right beside it before.

“Too slow.” Harvey wrapped an arm around his waist and pulled him through what turned out to be his bedroom door.

Mike licked his lips. “Oops.” It was probably the longest time either of them had ever spent on a single flight of stairs.

Harvey pushed Mike back onto the bed and finally unbuttoned his soiled shirt. Mike propped himself up on his elbows and watched intently.  
  
“I guess I could install an escalator,” Harvey mused absently to himself as he slid the shirt down his arms.

Mike grinned because he knew that Harvey probably did have that option.

Harvey comfortably slipped off his shoes and undid his pants again, not seeming to be very aware of Mike’s eyes on him. He stripped away his pants, underwear and socks. Whereas Mike knew he had the legs and ass of a cyclist, it was clear that Harvey kept a disciplined work-out ritual. The city’s glow seeping in through the endless windows cast enough light to emphasise his tastefully defined musculature. It made Mike feel a little strange knowing that he probably did it for the benefit of his female conquests.

“Problem?” Harvey carefully regarded Mike’s thoughtful expression, dropping his clothes to the floor when he approached the bed.

Mike shook his head. He shifted towards the edge of the bed and wrapped his legs around Harvey’s, pulling him tight. Harvey leaned forward, slipping his arms underneath Mike’s and planting his hands on the bed behind him. He was searching for something in his eyes. After all that Harvey had told him in the past two days, he had no idea what he was going through or what the emotional and psychological implications of their intimacy may have been for him. It was nearly impossible to decipher his own feelings let alone the other man’s.

Careful not to place any of his weight against Mike’s chest, Harvey shifted closer and drove his hips down, pressing their cocks together between their abdomens.

Mike’s head fell back with a sigh, his elbows nearly giving out. He was still hanging from a thread of muted afterglow, which lent him the relaxation he needed to avoid placing undue tension on his abused body. Harvey’s mouth was all over his neck, and his cock rolled back and forth across Mike’s with his slow, shallow thrusts.

“God, Mike… you have no idea… _no_ idea…” Harvey groaned into his neck, shaking his head as he thrust down against him.

Mike couldn’t take it anymore. “Fuck me. Right now.” He snuck a hand down between their bodies, and wrapped his fingers around both of them, tugging desperately. He curled his toes against the back of Harvey’s legs, drawing him in as close as possible.

Harvey pushed Mike flat onto his back and looked him in the eyes. “We can’t go back from this. Tell me you’re sure.”

“I’m sure,” he panted, almost before Harvey had finished his sentence. Of course he was sure. It was already a little late to go back, and he didn’t want to. It had always seemed so unattainable, yet completely inevitable. “Aren’t you sure?”

Harvey actually took the time to think about it. Mike swallowed nervously, his hand still squeezing their cocks together, making him feel utterly selfish. Harvey certainly _felt_ sure of what he wanted. Finally, he nodded and kissed Mike before pushing himself off the bed and out of his grasp.

Mike exhaled deeply, realizing he’d been holding his breath. He watched Harvey open his end table and pull out a condom and bottle of lube. He bit his lip, needing him so badly that, deep in his core, it hurt more than any of the bruises on his body.

Harvey slid between Mike’s legs as he knelt onto the bed, pulling his thighs apart but careful not to lift them much so as not to compress his ribs. He slathered his fingers with the lube and took Mike into his slippery palm, stroking him up and down until he had him sighing and moaning uncontrollably, almost entirely hard again, eyes closed. The slick fingers worked their way lower and lower until Mike felt the pressure of a fingertip circling his anus. He reached down and placed a hand on Harvey’s forearm, ready to pull him in if he had to.

“Please, please…” Mike couldn’t believe he was begging. He’d never begged before, and he hoped that Harvey didn’t consider it a sign of weakness. He couldn’t recall the last time he had needed anything so badly.

He sensed that Harvey was watching his response as he dipped his finger inside, and Mike couldn’t fathom what he must have looked like. He could hardly remember to breathe as the foreign digit slid all the way in to the knuckle.

“Fuckmorekeepgoing…” Mike had almost forgotten what it felt like, and instantly, he was addicted. He dug his fingers into Harvey’s arm, fighting the need to tip his hips up to take Harvey into him as deep as possible. He knew that engaging his abdominals would strain his chest. Harvey must have known this, too – he lay a firm but gentle hand across the base of Mike’s throat, encouraging his patience and stillness. With Harvey’s hands fucking him and holding him down, Mike’s cock was neglected, but he was glad. He couldn’t handle much more stimulation. He was impossibly hard now and knew that it wouldn’t take much to bring him over again. Harvey had always known how to keep him on edge.

Harvey’s finger slid out but instantly reconnected with his body in addition to another slick finger. Mike groaned and let all his muscles go, allowing Harvey take care of everything, trusting the way he made him feel.

“Good,” Harvey told him, sensing that he was giving in. Mike hardly recognized his voice, usually so distinct, but now heavily cloaked in arousal. He could almost get off on his approval alone, seeking it in nearly everything he did. It wasn’t a skill or a job well done he was being praised for now, but simply himself; his body. He didn’t even have to try.

As Harvey twisted and thrust his fingers inside, Mike’s mind wandered back to all of his usual masturbatory fantasies: Harvey jerking him off under the table in court; a fast, rough fuck in a restroom stall at work; heavy petting in a dark bar after a little too much scotch. He was so used to thinking about Harvey to get himself off that now he couldn’t help it. He’d never actually imaged anything as tangible as being in the privacy of his bedroom. Now that they were there together, Mike barely knew how to process the reality.

Harvey curled his fingers up against Mike’s prostate and he couldn’t have held in a cry if he tried. He twisted the bed sheets in his hands, his body hot and damp with sweat. When he blinked his eyes open to look at Harvey, he couldn’t bring himself to look away again.

Harvey’s expression was intent and absorbed as he watched his fingers disappear into Mike’s body. The hand at Mike’s throat slid down his stomach, down his thigh to his knee, back up to his grateful cock for a moment, and then to Harvey’s. His touch alternated between himself and Mike, stroking them each in short turns as the pace of his other hand quickened between Mike’s shuddering legs. Finally, a third finger pressed inside and Harvey began working him relentlessly, releasing his cock and pressing his hand flat against his stomach again to keep Mike’s movements limited.

Mike sighed and moaned at the vaguely familiar burn of the well-lubricated fingers. He dizzily patted the bed with his hand, searching for the condom until he found it and tore open the wrapper.

Harvey quickly withdrew his fingers, eliciting a short grunt from Mike, and snatched the condom from his hand before he could put it on him.

“Get on your knees,” Harvey told him. “Touch the wall.”

He sounded like a cop. No matter how many times Mike tried to take control, he was utterly in Harvey’s hands, as usual. He moved to his knees and turned to face the top of the bed, pushing his hands flat against the wall. It was understandable why he had been asked to take this position – with his body upright and elongated, there was no chance for pressure on his ribcage. He’s knees were badly bruised, but the bed was soft. As long as he continued to breathe, he would continue to hurt, but Harvey was looking out for him and trying to keep him comfortable. Moments later, Harvey moved behind him, slipping his hands around his thighs, pulling them apart. His latex-clad cock nestled into the crease of Mike’s ass as his hands roamed hungrily across Mike’s back, legs, neck and shoulders, almost as a massage.

His hands only left him for a moment before Mike heard the lid pop on the bottle of lube. He shivered as the cool gel trickled down his ass. Impulsively, he pushed back, trying to tilt his hips to take Harvey’s tip inside him, but Harvey was adamant to move at his own pace. He slowly rubbed up and down, spreading the lube onto both of them. Mike was almost weeping with anticipation and desire, but his loaded breaths remained silent. He tightly balled his fists against the wall, just as Harvey clasped a hip bone in one hand, guiding his angle.

Although Harvey had been teasing him for some time, Mike felt that it was without much warning when he pushed forward, breaching the tight ring of muscle as he thrust all the way inside of him with one movement. Suddenly feeling weak and drunk, his body trying to catch up with the sensations he was enduring, Mike’s fists lost traction on the wall and he collapsed. Before his fists could land on the bed in front of him, Harvey’s hands came around his arms, pulling him upright. He was completely breathless as his spine straightened and he sank down onto Harvey, engulfing him. He wanted to scream and beg – for what, he wasn’t even certain – but all he could do was gasp silently for air.

Harvey released Mike’s arms to stroke his hair. He raked his teeth across his neck. “Stay open for me,” he whispered into his ear, sounding almost as winded as Mike.

Mike nodded, his head falling back, loving the feel of Harvey’s hair against his cheek. It took a distinct effort not to allow his body to contract, but Harvey filled him so completely that he felt sure his body was already strained to its capacity, physically incapable of resisting.

Harvey reached down to tip Mike’s hips forward as he drew back a few inches. A hand brushed across Mike’s lap and took him in his hand before he thrust inside his body again. This time Mike did cry out in satisfaction. His body felt drugged and devoid of all the tension he usually felt when he was eager to please his partner. He felt that his only responsibility was to _feel._

“That’s good,” Harvey murmured, barely above a whisper. “This is how I want you. Open… easy…” Harvey began moving inside him, slow and steady, hand working him in time with their bodies’ rhythm. “Such a good boy.”

Mike nodded at Harvey’s words, unable to speak. Had it been anyone else talking to him that way he might not have liked it, but hearing it from Harvey drove him wild. His head was spinning and every inch of his body pulsed with need and sensation, overwhelmed but hungry more. Harvey’s guiding hand at his hip disappeared, but Mike continued lifting himself and falling to the rhythm they’d established. He reached back blindly and grasped at thin air, wanting to hold Harvey and never seeming to find the opportunity. Harvey caught his arm almost immediately.

Mike expected to feel his wrist pinned behind his back at that moment. Instead, he felt warm lips on his palm. They moved up to his index finger, sucking it into his mouth. As Harvey moved his soft tongue around his finger, Mike let go of a throaty groan, which seemed to encourage Harvey in turn. He bit down on Mike’s finger and began to push into him harder and faster, never entering him at any less than his full length. Mike was trembling, and sounds were coming out of his throat that he didn’t even recognize. When the teeth on his finger let up, he moved his hand back to thread his fingers into Harvey’s hair. Harvey replaced Mike’s finger with his neck, suckling and biting the sensitive tissue.

“Oh, fuck,” Mike whimpered, grasping Harvey’s hair more firmly, keeping the mouth locked onto his neck. He turned his head to try to catch a glimpse of the man he’d spent so much time fantasizing about. Harvey’s lips immediately moved up to catch Mike’s in a deep, wet kiss full of tongue and teeth. Mike was so dazed and overwhelmed that he was convinced that the only thing holding him upright was Harvey’s lips connected to his. He only pulled back when he thought he would faint if he didn’t. Harvey’s lips brushed the corner of his mouth.

_“Come with me.”_

Mike wasn’t even sure if the sounds left Harvey’s mouth, but he felt his lips moving against his cheek and knew exactly what he was saying. Mike nodded, gasping for air. He stroked the back of Harvey’s neck and reached down to lock his other hand onto his thigh as he rode him. He could feel that Harvey was close. His breathing was erratic and shallow, his grip tighter and faster now around Mike’s cock. A hand came up to Mike’s damp forehead and pulled his head back, exposing his throat to the air with their flushed cheeks pressed together. He savoured the feeling of Harvey’s chest against his back, rising and falling quick and deep, vibrating with the groans that came louder and rougher as he moved harder and more frantically.

It all suddenly became too much. Mike was so full that he began to overflow. Harvey bit down on his shoulder hard enough to hurt, but in that moment he was so entirely overcome with ecstasy that there was no room to feel pain. The slick, tight hand in his lap stroked wildly but all it took was the feeling of Harvey’s cock twitching and throbbing inside him to completely take him over the edge as they both drowned in one another, rocking, blindly grasping, crying out. With his eyes closed, he felt their weight shift as he fell back against Harvey’s body. The warmth of his own come hit his chest before the rest of his body caught up with his climax. They were both shaking, slick with sweat, legs twisted together, throats rattling out sounds of utter relief and, for a moment, Mike didn’t know who he was. They were the same.

Mike lay back against Harvey, his body feeling something like a snapped rubber band. Harvey’s shaky hands gripped each hip bone and he held him there, buried deep inside Mike’s raw and exhausted body for another minute before he reluctantly released his grip. Mike didn’t want to remember what it felt like to return to an empty body, but he had to. He slid off and landed next to Harvey on his back. He wasn’t ready to open his eyes. Speaking was out of the question. His mind was still, and he sensed that Harvey’s was too.

The sweat was beginning to cool on Mike’s skin when he felt the mattress shift. He blinked his eyes open just as Harvey was moving across his body, leaning over the edge of the bed to deposit the condom and wrapper in the bin underneath his end-table. Mike leisurely slid his hand over Harvey’s smooth ass as he reached down off the bed to pick something up. When he sat back on the bed, pushing himself off Mike’s body, he saw that it was the soiled, white shirt he had retrieved and felt a little disappointed that Harvey was going to get dressed again. But instead, he watched as Harvey balled up the fabric and used it to clean the sticky fluid from Mike’s chest and groin. Mike figured that it had been a big leap just to lend out his clothing, let alone use the clothes he’d worn to the office that day to mop up the residue of their sex. He almost smiled, but couldn’t spare the energy.

Harvey tossed the shirt into the hamper across the room and collapsed onto his back again with a sigh. His eyes were closed and Mike had never seen him look so relaxed. He sat up and took a few mental snapshots of Harvey’s nude, content body before beginning to psychologically prepare himself to get out of bed, go downstairs, get dressed, and leave. He didn’t want to go, but it was too risky to stay.

The back of Harvey’s hand touched Mike’s, and his plans changed. Something like fear crept through his chest, but that wasn’t it. All of their previous contact had come from sexual frustration, but they were both satisfied now. Even though Harvey’s meltdown in the office earlier that night told him that this – whatever was between them – was well beyond physical, being touched with no real purpose or sexual implications confirmed it. He glanced down at their hands, then at Harvey’s perfectly sculpted face.

“Are you staying?” Harvey’s eyes were still closed.

Mike shook his head, then bit his lip and answered: “Yeah.” It might not have been the correct answer, but it felt right.

“Hm.” Harvey sighed. His finger moved against Mike’s hand. He drew away and shifted so that he could pull down the comforter and climb underneath. Mike joined him, but kept a respectable distance under the cover. Harvey settled onto his back again, and Mike on his side, watching the other man, wondering what was going through his head. He seemed so comfortable that perhaps nothing was.

Harvey must have felt him watching because he slid an arm behind his head and looked over at Mike. He stared at him for a good long while before he concluded: “You’re not a woman.”

“I know that.”

“I’m not going to pretend that you are.”

“Good.” Mike wasn’t even sure what that would entail.

Harvey examined Mike’s face with sleepy eyes, and somehow it didn’t make Mike feel insecure.

“What are we going to do when we go back to work on Monday? Tell me.” He was simply asking and didn’t sound at all concerned.

“We’ll… work.”

“That’s right. And then?”

“We’ll go home.”

“Good.” Harvey’s expression changed a little and he looked back up at the ceiling. “I can’t pretend this didn’t happen,” he admitted. “It’s too… _much_. It’s too good.”

Mike swallowed, his heart rate picking up a little.

“But I’m going to need a little bit of time to work things out. I need to think.”

“Whatever you want,” Mike responded genuinely. He didn’t have any expectations.

Harvey tipped his head to the side again and glanced over at Mike with a tired, amused grin. He laughed. “Listen to yourself.”

Mike supposed that the thing he said was far easier said than done. “Well you don’t have to worry about me. I’m not going to be weird around you at work. No more than usual anyway. I won’t say anything to anyone. I’m not going to show up at your place. I hope I don’t need to tell you this stuff.”

“You’re not an idiot,” Harvey observed. “But you should know… Donna will find out.”

“You’re going to tell her? Why?”

“I’m not going to tell her anything, and neither are you. I’m just warning you – she’ll figure it out. I don’t know how she does it, but she does it.”

“She believed you when you lied to her about where I’d been the night before.” It wasn’t that he was encouraging Harvey to lie, but perhaps he was overestimating Donna’s psychic abilities.

Harvey groaned and rubbed his eyes. “I can’t prove this, but I think she was fucking with you, Mike. She thinks I’ve been withholding information and figured she could rattle it out of you. She’s got all kinds of theories. More like premonitions, actually.”

“She’s a witch,” Mike concluded.

“I keep telling her not to use her powers for evil,” Harvey explained with a yawn. “To be honest, I think she thinks I’ve been seeing you for a long time. There are reasons why. I don’t want to go into it right now. If I told her you stayed over last night I would have just been encouraging her theories, which were wrong. So I lied a little. I can’t say she believed me though.”

Mike was taken aback, but it was easy to understand. He always forgot what a skilled actress Donna was.

He could feel Harvey’s body heat under the blanket and he realized that they were having something that sounded a lot like a normal conversation. He never imagined that they would be capable of it in Harvey’s bed, nude.

“She knows you fuck men,” Mike told Harvey, half posed as a question.

“Yeah, I figured that. This is a little bit different, though. It’s private.”

“Why?” Mike was glad to hear it, but he didn’t know why it made him feel so relieved.

“Because I actually know you. We work together, and I consider you a friend.” He paused and scratched his eyebrow. “I always figured men were a fetish for me. Apparently it’s a little more complicated than that when you actually like the guy. You’re not an easy person to objectify, Mike.”

Mike had never received such a strange compliment. “You told me that David was a friend,” he recalled. “That’s the first thing you told me about him.”

“Different kind of friend. And let’s not talk about him again.” He looked at Mike. “That’s over.”

“Okay.”

“Come here.”

Mike’s heart skipped a beat. Harvey propped himself up on his elbows and slid a warm hand across Mike’s waist, encouraging him to close the space between their bodies. When they were face to face the hand on his waist moved to his neck. Mike tilted his head met Harvey with an unhurried kiss, the thumb on the back of his neck stroking him. When they parted, Harvey searched Mike’s expression before he found what he wanted and the corner of his mouth twitched into a half-smile. 

“I think this is the beginning of a beautiful friendship.”

Mike smiled. “Casablanca. Good call.” He had a feeling he’d just passed the same litmus test that Rachel had failed.

Harvey stretched out on the bed again and Mike settled next to him, completely exhausted and content not to move a muscle in his body. A few minutes passed before Mike couldn’t help but ask something that had been nagging at him.

“Why do you have Vicodin in your bathroom?”

“Because I get migraines when people ask me too many questions,” Harvey responded effortlessly. His eyes were still closed. “Lights out, camper.”

He might have felt irritated being brushed off like that, but as they lay there side by side, Harvey quietly took Mike’s hand in his. Their fingers wrapped loosely together underneath the covers, where nobody would ever see. Mike realized that there was something else he had been wanting to say. When he looked over with the words on his lips, he saw that Harvey was already asleep.

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading!


End file.
